All Around the World
by ColdDaye
Summary: LXG, Slash. As the League takes a vacation to see the rest of the world, they find a new mystery in South America. JekyllSkinner
1. Chapter 1

            _Sweaty – they were both sweaty and moving and breathing hard – Jekyll pulled back a moment and watched his dreamlover move toward him languidly smiling – grinning a wicked promise – here – he reached out and cupped his lover's face took his lips with his teeth and-_

            Woke to a black pitch room to the sounds of gasping, sobbing and gasping.

            _That's not fair_

            He fumbled for a moment before finding the lamp and turning it on. Then he stumbled over to the water basin. An old plain mirror leaned up behind it, had somehow miraculously survived the explosions and Gray's exit. He'd been uneasy about having a mirror in the room, for privacy's sake.

            Jekyll splashed water on his face and wiped it off with a hand towel. Sure enough, he could make out auburn hair sweat-dark and eyes red-rimmed by lack of sleep for a few seconds before Hyde's brutish visage superimposed over his own. Only that Hyde's face _was_ his and his was Hyde's – but it's thoughts like these that keep him awake too long into the night.

            "Been havin' dreams again, eh, Henry?" Hyde bared his teeth in a gruesome smile.

            "Shut it, Edward," Jekyll snapped. He placed his hands on the bureau and leaned into it, stretching his shoulders.

            "Ha! You know why you have that dream, Henry?"

            "No," he sighed, "and I suppose you'll tell me."

            "'S cause something in you isn't right, Henry. 'S why you made me in the first place." Jekyll shook his head but they both knew it was true. Something is wrong with him.

            "To separate from my baser instincts –" he muttered.

            "Didn't work, did it?" there was something like pity in Hyde's voice and it was the pity Jekyll hated. _You're my monster, you don't pity me, I made you!_

            He turned and walked back to the bed while Hyde's voice followed him, "Stop hating it, stop hating you – it's part of you…" Then he ruined the uncharacteristic kindness by laughing cruelly, "_I'm_ part of you."

            Jekyll sighed and turned off the lamp. He lay staring up at the ceiling with the cover pulled up to his chin. He remembered when he first woke, thinking _That's not fair_ – because he kept having the same dream with no escape, that he woke up before the good part – 

            His face heated in the dark, embarrassed at his own thoughts, even though he's alone in his head.

            _Except Hyde can probably hear everything I think._

            And then he thought, _Damn him_.      

            And then he slept.

            He looked at his plate and breakfast stared back at him. It was a small octopus, which Nemo assured him was a delicacy. Delicacy or not, Jekyll decided fruit was safer.

            The gelatinous black eye didn't stop Sawyer who was eating and talking excitedly, occasionally pausing to swallow. He was trying to convince some of the Indians that America was simply the greatest place – especially the Mississippi, which Jekyll understood to be farther inland then where they were going. In a few days they would dock in New York so Sawyer could meet with his superiors and beg a vacation to continue traveling with them. 

            "Good morning!" Jekyll started, then looked to his left to see – or rather, not see Skinner.

            "Good morning," he returned.

            "And the ladies there – whoa! It's like a party every night!" Sawyer waved his arms for emphasis and his listeners chattered in their native tongue and nudged one another.

            "Sounds alright, eh, Jekyll?" Skinner nudged him in the side, "Find a buxom gel for a good time?" Jekyll smiled weakly. Gel, right. He turned to agree but watched in horror as Skinner thoroughly chewed a piece of tentacle, then swallowed. Even through his disgust, the doctor in him wondered why he could see it chewed and swallowed, but not see it in Skinner's stomach. On reflection, he was grateful.

            Then he said something he quickly regretted, "I thought Quartermain – " he stopped. No one said his name much, especially around Sawyer. He looked up guiltily but the boy hadn't heard him. Somewhere in his head Hyde chuckled.

            "All that, 'in clothes at all times'?" Skinner asked. Jekyll knew if he could see Skinner's face it would be the epitome of innocence. He was pushing the envelope again and again with Quartermain gone. He had no real incentive to behave, no goal they were working towards. Jekyll paled slightly as Skinner took another bite, this time of the head. He looked over just in time to see one of the eyes pop between invisible teeth. He closed his own eyes and waited until the room stopped spinning.

            "You alright, Jekyll?" Skinner asked. Thankfully the sound of chewing through soft cartilage stopped when he spoke. Jekyll didn't answer, just concentrated on steady breathing.

            Skinner looked at his plate, then at Jekyll's. He hadn't touched his creature munchy, so – not being as stupid as most believed, Skinner excused himself.

            "Be right back, ducks," he said. Jekyll opened his eyes as he heard Skinner leave.

            Ducks. That was new.

            Skinner came back in his trenchcoat and makeup a moment after he'd left. The two ate in silence, listening to Sawyer – 

            "Best hunting, too, and fishing! Well, y'know, maybe not as good as the open sea, but pretty darn near." 

            Finally, one of his captive audience spoke up, "Is all this in New York?" and Sawyer deflated a little.

            "Naw, New York is city stuff. Still great ladies! But it's mostly shops 'nd stuff."

            Jekyll's eyes slid to the side and he was thankful that all he could see of Skinner's food was a white bulge in one cheek. He could still hear it, but it was better then seeing it – _but you know it's just like the time we chewed the ears off that chap outside of Oxford._

            Nausea made his stomach turn and he rubbed his eyes with one hand hissing, "Shut it, Edward!" 

            "What's that? Jekyll? You alright, you look 'orrible, mate!" Skinner said. He touched Jekyll's shoulder and the man sat up with a gasp.

            "I'm fine," he said, "Just…haven't been getting enough sleep lately."

            Skinner looked skeptical, one white gray eyebrow tilted downward and lips twisted in a disapproving line.

            "Ed – Hyde's been pleading his case. He thinks he deserves some freedom for playing nice and helping at M's fortress." Hyde sniggered. _Liar._

            "Yeah, so? Once we get to America, give him an evening out," he said.

            Jekyll grimaced, "You don't know what he's like when he isn't being a team player. Sometimes, he eats things – parts of people he's ripped to pieces to make them leave him alone or just because he's bored. I-I'm there," always, "I can never make him stop. I can only watch."

            Skinner watched Jekyll hunch and was glad that he had no "company" in his head.

            "Good morning, gentlemen," Mina settled opposite the two and Jekyll straightened.

            "Good morning, Mina," he said, and began to pick at his fruit again.

            "Mornin' luv!" Skinner said with a cocky grin. Mina smiled warily.

            As Jekyll finished up he could hear Sawyer regaling them with a tale of his youth, "Me and Huck got into the most awful trouble! Once we- "

            "Who is this Huck?" the Indian to his left asked.

            "Oh, my best pal, Huckleberry Finn. Last I heard he's in training to be a copper. Anyway, my aunt would cool her pies off by puttin' them on the windowsill, an' – "

            His voice grew smaller as Jekyll walked back to his room.

            "Are you going to sulk all day?" Hyde asked from the mirror. Jekyll ignored him in favor of continuing his paper, effects of extreme cold on burn victims. The only subject he'd observed was Skinner, of course. Moving him to the Nautilus had shocked his system, but it was better than the alternative.

            "Yes, you're going to sulk." Not getting an answer, Hyde continued, "I don't see what you're so upset about, it was only the one time. Though they were a tad clammy, English weather and all. I wonder what they taste like warm – "

            "Bugger off!" Jekyll yelled, shutting his journal with the smack of paper. In three quick strides he stood in front of the bureau and snatched the mirror down. He shoved it face-down under his bed.

            The he continued his paper in relative and didn't leave until dinner time.

            He was not sulking.

            _Heh, sure._


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** Not mine. The concept goes to America's Best Comics and Alan Moore and Fox 20th cent., the characters come from their classics. I don't make any money off this, and as a starving student, neither will you if you sue me.

            "Someone ought to have a chat wid Jekyll," Skinner announced as he watched the doctor leave. Mina raised an eyebrow and dabbed her lips with her napkin, delicately.

            "And why is that?" she asked. 

            "Bloke's bloody miserable!" he exploded, "Someone should see why."

            "Has he been like this for long?"

            "No, jus' a couple of days."

            _Well, isn't this an eye-opener. Rodney Skinner watches Jekyll enough to decide if he's feeling poorly._ Mina decided this bore further investigation…So lost in thought was she that when Nemo spoke over her shoulder, it almost surprised her.

            "Maybe you should ask him what's wrong," Nemo said, "After all, you know him best." Something in Nemo's eyes glittered, reminded Skinner of a tiger he'd seen at the Carnival as a boy. It didn't spook him, just told him be wary, like Quartermain.

            He swallowed, "How d'you figure that?"

            _Ah! His injuries, the good doctor, of course!_ Mina smirked victoriously, "You spent the most time with him, while you were recuperating." Jekyll had said Hyde could see Skinner, so he could see the injuries. The doctor's company was a welcome respite from four sterile walls, as Skinner was unable to move for a week. And Skinner had some honor, here and there…

            "So I should jolly well march up to him and ask, 'Wot's up, doc?'" Mina frowned at his cavalier tone, and disapproval was visible in every line on her loverly face. The message, though, was clear. Jekyll helped him, he should help Jekyll.

            Rodney Skinner was a man who paid his bets, occasionally. When the mood struck him.

            "Yew didn't come all this way to chat about a chap with a complex, did you?" he pointed an accusatory finger at Nemo, although the gesture was moot without gloves.

            "I came to tell you that we will not be surfacing today as the weather is too rough. We will have some time for fresh air tomorrow if the storm dissipates accordingly."

            "Thank you, captain," Mina smiled, a lot nicer than she ever smiled at Skinner.

            Something there? Maybe. Skinner thought at first there may have been something with the doctor and Nemo, the doctor being a tad limp and Nemo all manly and such, but he'd yet to gather any hard evidence. He could talk to Jekyll today with nothing better to do, _or_ – he could spy around and in general make a nuisance of himself. He watched Mina rise and follow Nemo with a seductive sway in her hips. 

            He could talk to Jekyll tomorrow.

            The telegram came after dinner but did not reach Skinner until midmorning the next day. All through breakfast, he'd watched Jekyll pick at the decorative greens, not eating anything and occasionally muttering to himself, to Hyde.

            Skinner chewed carefully, nursing an aching jaw where Nemo had clipped him with a lucky shot. He was in a sour mood for getting caught, not discovering anything interesting – they'd just chattered on about plans after New York. Mina expressed some interest in New Orleans due to a distant branch of family she hadn't seen for some time, blah, blah, blah, but something about her condition and then Nemo got him.

            The telegram made it all worse.

            Jekyll heard a scream, a wordless yell from one of the miscellaneous meeting rooms. Indians that passed by would glance in, then quicken their step away. Jekyll walked toward it, slowly drawn in. He saw Skinner in trenchcoat and facepaint throwing some sort of tantrum.

            Hyde laughed in his head. _Oh, this is beautiful_!

            Skinner picked up a decorative end table, spilling the vase of white flowers to the floor. Jekyll noticed some water splatter as the ceramic shattered, which surprised him. He'd always assumed the white flowers were fake. An example of Nemo's decadence.

            Skinner clutched the furniture, flexed his fingers then tightened his grip. He yelled again as he smashed it against the floor over and over until all he held were splinters, then shed them. He reached down to pick up a piece of paper at his side that Jekyll assumed was the source of his rage. Skinner read the sheet again, then sank to the floor staring at the far wall. He breathed steadily through his nose, pressed an arm over his mouth and stilled. Jekyll watched him out of one eye, half his face and body obscured by the doorframe. 

            He could remember an earlier time he had done this, barely a month ago, saw Gray and Mina together. _Made your blood pump, too_, Hyde said, watching him from a porthole, _Maybe there's hope for you yet, Henry_.

            "Leave me alone," Jekyll whispered.

            Topside, Sawyer was doing target practice. Jekyll watched him aim, then stand absolutely stock-still, waiting. Then he fired and the balloon exploded into red rubber pieces.

            "Are you excited?" where did that come from? _You don't think, Henry,_ Hyde sneered, _That's why I'm here in the first place._

            _Bugger off, Edward._

            "'Bout what?" Sawyer asked. Jekyll almost expected him to chew on a toothpick. No, hay would fit, some country, boyish innocence. _Don't you have any standards_ – 

            "Shut up!" he snapped.

            "What? Hey, you okay?" 

            "Fine, I- it's Hyde. That's all," Jekyll cleared his throat, "I meant about New York, home."

            "Ah, hey. Home for me has been and always will be the Mississip. New York's all right."

            "But you'd rather go _home_ home."

            "Yeah."

            "See your family?"

            "Huh, they'll probably be inland. Though, knowin' my Aunt Polly she'll find some way to meet with me. Make sure I'm keepin' out of trouble," Sawyer grinned at him and Jekyll noticed how the sun make his hair lighter on top.

            "H-how does she feel about you being a secret agent?"

            "Oh, it scares her, I guess. Growin' up, she just wanted me safe. But she wanted me to be able to do what I want, jus' safely," he rolled his eyes, "Women." 

            After a short pause he added, "The real turning point was when my best pal Huck signed up to be a copper. She figured we were both gonna make the world a better place, and I can't hide behind her apron forever, y'know? So she backed off. Wrote every week I was in training and sent cookies every other. Man, I never lived that one down."

            Jekyll smiled with him. "How nice she cares about you that much," he said. They both stood in silence in contemplation for a few minutes.

            "Yeah, I'm excited," Sawyer said. But he didn't look it. He stared out while the Indian stood by patiently, another balloon loaded and ready to go. Trepidation, that's it. Jekyll could see a waiting dread in the way Sawyer held himself and the way his mouth was set. His lips – _You disgusting poof_.

            _Leave me alone, Hyde!_

            …_I didn't say that_. And there was real concern in Edward's voice. 

And real fear chilled Jekyll beneath the sun. 

**Author's Notes:**

Thanks for the reviews! They really mean a lot. 

I'll be out of town for a couple weeks, maybe update between there, but when I get back in, I'll update a lot. 

Hey, how's this for cliffhangers? Who's the third voice in Jekyll's head? Who's the dreamlover? What mystery awaits them in South America? (Actually I may need some help with that. If anyone has an idea, let me know. Thanks!)

Until next time - 


	3. Interlude

**Disclaimer**: no own-y no sue-y

Continuum Notes: Broad Arrow Jack shows up in the book for two panels, and came from a penny dreadful. I'm borrowing the character and giving him character (how much can you tell out of two panels?) so here he's about twenty-four or -five, and hasn't been married to anyone (in the penny dreadful he was married to an aristocrat).

~Sawyer~

            Sawyer found something to do when they submerged again. Reading was too boring and his guns could only be cleaned so many times, but under the main workings where they had kept the car until he'd…trashed it, he found something.

            Someone.

            This was the one crewmember closest to his in age, but no one said _he_ looked like a boy. He carried himself like nothing could touch him. Sawyer had never heard him speak before. He usually wandered around shirtless, displaying a black arrow head on his back, but today he wore a long-sleeved v-neck shirt, like an English fisherman. Now he was sorting through white roses, clipping off the thorns.

            "Can I sit here?" Sawyer asked. The man nodded and continued a deft clip clip clip.

            Sawyer picked up the other shears and began clipping a few. "I'm Tom Sawyer," he said.

            "I know," the man said. After a pause, he added, "I'm Jack. Broad Arrow Jack."

            _Yeah, with the tattoo and all_, Sawyer thought, then realized that Jack dressed English because he _was_ English. He said as much.

            "Of course I am," Jack sneered. Tom set his jaw. _Well, now he thinks I ain't worth my weight in horse crap – _

            Jack sighed, "What about this Huck of yours?"

            "Excuse me?" Tom's hand slipped and he almost nicked his thumb.

            Jack sighed as though he couldn't be bothered, "I'm afraid I didn't get to hear your story. I was curious, as my shipmates seemed greatly entertained by it."

            "Oh," Tom grinned, "You really want to hear it?"

            Jack huffed, "I would not ask if I was not sure."

            "Touchy!" Jack stopped to glare at him and Tom grinned wider, "Okay! So my Aunt Polly would cool her pies on the windowsill and Huck and me would steal them – "

            "Is that all?"

            "No! Look, ya wanna hear it or not?"

            Jack clipped silently.

            "Why're we doin' this anyway?"

            "Someone has to."

            "Real flowers?"

            "The captain prefers a touch of civilization even when we are not near it."

            "Uh-huh. Anyways, the pies were so hot that we would grab one and toss it back and forth while gettin' away, but it only worked for so long. Pretty soon Aunt Polly caught on so she started putting them on the _second_ story windowsill.

            "I tried to go after it once, but my half-brother tattled on me 'cause I had to carry it through the house. _And_ I burned my hands." One side of Jack's mouth curled up unnoticed by its owner. But Tom saw it. Encouraged, he kept going.

            "So then we figured we had to take it from the outside, and be clever about it. We built a stick with a pulley so that I would loop the rope around the pie and Huck would raise it up, move it over the grass, then lower it gently," Tom said, gesturing with his hands.

            "I looped the rope around the pie alright, but Huck pulled it up way too fast. The pie went up and over, and flew out of the rope, then smashed on the ground! Plan A down." He tossed his last rose on the 'done' pile and grabbed another handful, minding the thorns.

            "Then, onto Plan B. We would put a board between the window and the tree right outside. This time, I sat in the tree and Huck climbed the trellis. He slid the pie down the board to me, and he said if I'd a been watchin' the pie instead of Becky Thatcher, I'd a caught it." 

            Jack smiled, ready to laugh, "So, Plan B down?"

            "Yup. Then Plan C!" He threw out his arms and now Jack laughed.

            "Plan C, we stopped bein' so clever. We, er, 'borrowed' a ladder and I climbed up and jus' grabbed the thing! It burned my hands, again, _and_ I tripped, wouldn't ya know it? The pie flies out of my hands, flies over Huck's head, and _miraculously_ lands upright behind him! But, he thought I was gonna fall off the roof into him, so he took a step _backwards_ – "

            Jack winced sympathetically, "Ouch."

            "Yeah. Plan C down. Plan D was really a variation of C, and woulda worked if it hadn't rained.

            "We both climbed up the ladder this time so we wouldn't burn our hands, ya know, toss it back and forth like before, right?" Jack nodded. "Then I would go partway down the ladder, he'd hand the pie down, jump off, and I'd toss it down to him. Foolproof, see?

            "Well, I tossed it to Huck, but he dropped it, then tried to grab it before it slid off the roof. He slipped and went right after it but not before knockin' me down. Then I had the brilliant idea to grab ahold of the ladder, which wasn't exactly bolted down…So down goes the pie," he clapped, "down goes Huck, down goes Tom, down goes the ladder." He clapped after each 'down goes,' for emphasis while Jack chuckled. _Not a belly laugher, that one. _

            He smiled, "I guess we coulda waited for the church picnic, but then we'd a had to share with everyone else."

            "So instead you cause harm to yourself and innumerable pies," Jack said, grinning. Kind of smirking, but you felt he didn't have a lot of practice smiling.

            "Yeah, well. The _adventure_ was the whole reason for livin' back then."

            "And now?"

            "You got me."

            "The adventure," they chorused, and laughed.

            "So, hey, how about it?" Tom said.

            "How about what?" Jack began to straighten the roses into bundles.

            "How about the story?"

            "Oh, it was a good story. Hope you've grown up a bit," Jack twisted a corner of his mouth at Tom.

            "Well, a little. I mean, I told a story, now it's your turn."

            "Oh…I don't know any good stories."

            "C'mon! Just – " he looked around for inspiration though every corner was deep in shadow, the only light was above them and the crates they sat on.

            "How'd you come here?"

            "What?" Jack looked up, startled.

            "What's your life story?"

            "Are you really curious or just that bored?"

            "Mostly I'm bored," Tom admitted.

            Jack took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I got into trouble when I was seventeen or so. Well, I was always getting into trouble, not the funny kind," he looked over to Tom, "but a bad kind. This time they gave me," here he shrugged his shoulders like he had an itch at the back of his neck. "They turned me from Jack to Broad Arrow Jack." 

            "Yeah," Tom said, nodding.

            "So they sent me to the colony down south, mm, Australia. There I was picked up by the Nautilus, recruited when the crew was depleted, like we'll have to do again in New York, I suppose."

            "Uh-huh."

            "Here I met Ishmael. He is – was the closest thing to a father I've known." Jack stopped and so did Tom.

            Tom held the shears poised over one thorn. "I guess I'm not the only one feeling it, huh?"

            Jack shook his head, mouthed 'no'. 

            "So it hurts, losin' something that never belonged to ya," he said.

            Jack laughed, bitter, "Yes. Something like that."

            After a few moments of silence Jack asked, "So are you excited about New York?"

            "Why is everyone askin' me that?"

            Jack quirked an eyebrow.

            Tom clarified, "Yesterday, the doc asked me if I was excited."

            "Oh. It's," Jack shrugged, "the only thing to ask. What else is there to say?" Tom nodded. Jack asked again, "Are you excited?"

            "No."

            "What do you mean?"

            "I mean I'm not," he sighed, "Sure, I'll get to see Aunt Polly again, Lord knows that'll be exciting," he rolled his eyes, "But I'll get to see some people I'd rather not."

            "Like who?"

            "Like Huck for one."

            Jack scooped the thorns into a pile and put them into a sack for disposal.

            "Huck your friend?"

            "Was." Jack looked at him, waiting for more.

            "See, Huck was my friend, Becky was my girl. Was," he chewed his lower lip, looking past Jack to phrase it best. "When I went off to be a secret agent, actually just a US Marshal, the secret agent came when they decided I had talents best suited elsewhere – anyways, Huck and Becky got close when I left. They, uh, got married three months after I left."

            "Mm."

            "Yeah. So, I tell 'em no hard feelings, just keep the hell away from me. 'S not like I was gonna marry her or anything, just – "

            "Felt like he stabbed you in the back."

            "Yeah. Ain't there a saying somewhere, a true friend stabs you in the front?" He twisted his lips cruelly and Jack mirrored his look.

            "If it ever comes down to it, Tom Sawyer, I will stab you in the front."

            "Aw, thanks, Jack." They packed the roses into vases then wandered the ship settling them on end tables, and replacing one table in the room Skinner had trashed. Sawyer saw he really did a number on it, thought he could ask what's wrong, but he knew how that exchange would go. Better to just let it go.

**Author's Notes**-

Okay, seriously. Last update for a week or a bit. Review – Lots happens when they hit New York (like the mystery part of the plot, for example).


	4. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** Not mine. 

"That's all there is to it?"

            "Yeah, just one big conspiracy. Uh," Sawyer pulled a sheaf of papers from his satchel, "Here's my full report, sir."

            His superior, a sour-faced man named Jones, took the papers and flipped through them. "Alright, and now you want what?"

            "Jus', mm, some time off. I've been going pretty hard lately, and there's at least three near-death experiences in there!" the joke didn't go over well, or even at all. Jones grimaced and rubbed his abdomen and Sawyer thought he must have an ulcer, which accounted for most of his abruptness. He probably wanted to get out of there quickly, so Tom said, "Now I feel I really need this time off and I'm prepared to fight for it-"

            Then Jones said, "No! No, that's quite alright. How will we contact you if need be?"

            "You can contact the Nautilus easy enough," he leaned forward helpfully, "Would you like me to go over my report in detail before I leave?"

            "No! That's fine, I'm sure. Your, ah, Aunt Polly is waiting to meet you at the police station so you can see your old friend Huck at the same time, pleasure, I'm sure, have a nice time-"

            The door slammed behind him.

            Tom looked back in surprise. That was the first time he'd been thrown out of a temporary HQ. Mina, waiting outside with a parasol over one shoulder, asked, "How was it?"

            Tom grinned and flashed a thumbs up.

            The police station was quiet and orderly, not like he'd expected. He opened his new pocket watch to check _Yes, Henry, it does tell time._

_            Shut it, Edward. It's your fault I need a new one in the first place._

            A burst of incredulity was Hyde's reply.

            _MY FAULT?_

            Jekyll winced and touched his temple.

            "Are you well?" Mina asked.

            He nodded, "Fine, just a headache." Hyde glared at him from a window. Sawyer was not obviously having a good time. He'd been happy enough to see his aunt, but now-

            "Detective in two years, good fer you, Huck!" Tom smiled. With his teeth.

            "Yeah, well, how've you been?"

            "Oh, you know. Stopped a world war, same old stuff," he shrugged and preened slightly. Hyde turned to watch with interest.

            "Wow! And now you're off to-?"

            "Exploring."

            "Like when we were kids?" Finn grinned and the hairs on the back of Jekyll's neck raised. _Now it gets interesting_. He didn't bother to tell Hyde off.

            Luckily, a blonde woman came up to Finn. She was several months pregnant. "Huck, be sure you're home by eight for dinner with the chief," she said. Then she noticed the rest of them. Jekyll watched Tom's face tighten and decided this was not so lucky after all.

            Sawyer set his jaw. "Hello, Tom," the woman said. 

            "Becky," he ground out. _Hmmm_.

            Some underling entered the far door, "Sir! Oh, begging your pardon," he nodded to the League members and Becky. "We've caught the red light rapist!"

            "Really? Does he have blonde hair?"

            "Ah…You'd better come see."

            Finn shrugged. "If you'll excuse me," he said. He followed the man out.

            They stood silent in one of those awkward moments. Jekyll checked his watch again while Sawyer chewed his lower lip, not looking at anyone. _Ah, look. It's the time again._

_            Stop being such an ass, Edward._

            Hyde sighed. _Come on, Henry! This is boring. Let's go find a woman._

_            What would you do with a woman? You usually kill them._

            Well, I'm not in control. Oh, that's right. What would you do with a woman? I know, let's go find a gi-

_            Alright! We'll find a woman. Not because you say so…__because I want to._

_            …Of course._

            Jekyll felt a burning in his chest, some anger at being manipulated, again. He would find a woman – and maybe he wouldn't have that dream tonight, or any other. He closed the watch and slipped it into his pocket.

            "Well, I'm off," he announced. Mina raised an eyebrow. "I'll see you back at the Nautilus," he said.

            He left.

            Finding a woman, a red light in the window, wasn't that hard. He knocked on the wrong door at first, but the woman looked him up and down once, then told him he'd be wanting Elsa next door.

            Elsa was Irish, plum, but not by too much. She scrutinized Jekyll while he stood for a minute. He wasn't too sure how these things worked out because usually Edward was here, not Henry. It had been awhile. At least this time, the prostitute might survive the night.

            Finally she asked, "How can I help you?"

            "Ah," he said, twisting the watch chain around his fingers nervously, "I'd like to- that is – you're a – I mean…" How did one put it delicately?

            She sighed. "Never done a teabag before," she muttered, "Well, come in," she jerked her head and stepped to one side. He stepped past her.

            As it turned out, Elsa didn't get to do a teabag just yet.

            "I'm sorry," he apologized again, "Usually it, you know," he gestured.

            "I understand," she said, "Who's the lucky girl?"

            "Beg pardon?" his eyes widened.

            "Sometimes, when you care for another, this isn't the solution." Jekyll realized he was on the verge of a very uncomfortable epiphany.

            "Ah," he said, blushing. _I know what's wrong_, Hyde grumbled, _All your blood's going to the wrong place, bloody poofter._

            "That's alright, dear. Here," she handed him his coat.

            "Thank you," he said and pointed over his shoulder, "I'll just-" 

            He left.

            To say Hyde was disgusted was a mild understatement. "I don't believe you," he said from the window fronts as they passed. The street was empty and Jekyll spoke back openly.

            "Me? Maybe you're the one who c-can't hold up!"

            "How do you figure that?! You're the one in control!"

            "So? Maybe it's been too long – this is all your fault – m-maybe I just n-need practice!"

            "Practice?!"

            _Couldn't even get it on with a whore_

            "Shut up, Edward!!"

            Hyde stopped raging for a moment. "That wasn't me," he said.

            "What? So now you're saying there's someone else in here?" Jekyll hit the side of his head with the butt of his palm. "Hello! Who's in there?!" A sickly thin girl carrying a loaf of bread stared at him and gave him a wide berth as she passed.

            "Henry!" Hyde snapped, "I'm serious!"

            "There's you, there's me," Jekyll answered, "If it isn't me, it's you!" he began walking again.

            "If it isn't _me_, it's _you_!" Hyde snapped. Jekyll clenched his teeth but didn't answer.

            Upon entering the Nautilus he noticed it looked exceptionally empty. Normally members of the crew were everywhere, and Sawyer was cleaning his guns in the lower level.

            "Excuse me," he caught a passing Indian, "Where are the others?"

            "The captain is retrieving the crew and the others are at the police station."

            "Still, why?" he asked.

            "Didn't you hear?" the Indian said, "Mr. Skinner has been arrested.


	5. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** Not mine. The concept goes to America's Best Comics and Alan Moore and Fox 20th cent., the characters come from their classics. I don't make any money off this, and as a starving student, neither will you if you sue me.

Warning – mentions of rape and a naughty word.

            They'd given Skinner a jacket even though no one could see the naughty bits, as he'd informed Jekyll. They just wanted to make sure he was still in his cell. As Detective Finn put it, if the jacket came off, so did his head. He'd already been knocked round a bit, as some believed him to be some sort of serial rapist and others probably just wanted to see if his bruises became visible. He moved jerkily to stand in front of Jekyll, the only one still speaking to him.

            "What were you doing?" Jekyll asked, "What were you _thinking_?"

            "Well, the way I see it, I'm invisible, right? Might as well have some fun – "

            "By raping some prostitute? Is that your idea of fun?!"

            _Sounds like fun to me, Henry._

            "Fuck you!" Jekyll snapped. Skinner stiffened in surprise.

            "Look, ducks, I only felt 'er up some, nothin' really happened. The cozzers showed, I ran, the biddy threw 'er powder pouf at my head and then the cops got me. See? No harm done – 'cept to me anyway," he muttered and shrugged one shoulder painfully feeling aches that would worsen before they got better.

            Jekyll stood unmoving, one hand pressing a handkerchief to his lips. He looked paler then Skinner's greasepaint.

            "Ducks?" Skinner asked, holding the bars, "Are you alright?"

            Jekyll opened his eyes, "'M fine." He replaced the cloth in his pocket and shook his head to clear it, "Why do you call me ducks?"

            Skinner shrugged, then hissed, "You, ah, asked me not to call you doc, and I'm respectin' your wishes," he said, then remembering he added, "To your face, anyways," sounding slightly chagrined.

            Jekyll nodded, remembering – _Skinner immobilized in one place was not prone to a good mood, and pestered Jekyll constantly about leaving, always tacking doc onto it somehow, until Jekyll yelled at him, "I am a doc-_tor_! Not a doc! _Try_ to treat me with at least some modicum of respect!"_

_            Skinner lay very still. Until then the only one that could truly upset the good doctor was the monster, Hyde, but now Skinner had – and that realization made him feel very uncomfortable indeed. Jekyll was like a puppy, an intelligent puppy, but one that made you feel bad when you hurt it._

_            "Alright," he said quietly, "I-I'm sorry." Jekyll looked down at his bandaged form, then his eyes darted to the mirror in the corner. He looked back down at Skinner and nodded._

Jekyll sighed, "So we have the what, but why?"

            Skinner shrugged again, "Ow! I told you, I was just havin' a spot of fun. I'll out in the morning, no problem."

            Having fun… "You expect to get out that soon? Now they're calling you the red light rapist. Is that fun?"

            Skinner sighed and the top of the jacket bent forward. Jekyll presumed he was bowing his head.

            "The evidence they 'ave, the hairs 'er blonde. I'm not. Even when they leave my body, they're still invisible. You remember how my skin turned invisible again when it healed?" Jekyll nodded thoughtfully and filed that fact somewhere between Hyde's growing impatience, his own thoughts, and the apparent third presence.

            Skinner dropped his hands. "Yeah. Now go on, ducks," he waved a sleeve at Jekyll.           

            "What?"           

            "I'm tired. I'll see you in the morning." He went back to the bunk and lay stiffly with his back toward Jekyll.

            _Let's go._

            "You – you still didn't tell me _why_. I don't buy you just wanted to have fun."

            _Come on!_

            Skinner ignored him. Jekyll felt the muscles in the back of his neck tighten. He squeezed his eyes shut. Not now, Edward.

            I'm bored! I don't give a shit why, I want to do something! 

            "Skinner! Why?" his voice sounded strained and it was a trick of the light, the hairs on the back of his hands, lengthening and darkening like that.

            He grasped at a memory as Hyde began to growl. "What was on that paper?"

            "Wot?"

            "Th-that paper – the one you got yesterday –"

            Skinner sighed theatrically, "It's on my bureau. That's why. Now be a good boy and piss off."

            Skinner's room was in as much disarray as the meeting room had been, but Jekyll wasn't paying attention. He sought out the paper while Hyde fussed in his head making it hard to concentrate. He could make out phrases – we thank you for your service – crown – we regret – process is irreversible – no cure 

            _Now you know, now we can have some real fun._

_            …no…_

_            Come on, Henry, let me out._

_            I-I can't._

_            Yes, you can. You ought to make up for earlier._

_            That's no reason._

_            I'm bored, that's plenty of reason,_ he whispered, _I can get the gels where you can't._

            With a shaking hand Jekyll opened his leather case. He carefully removed a vial of the elixir and slipped it into his pocket. He hurried out of the Nautilus while Hyde crooned deep in his mind _You won't have that dream tonight, Henry._

            Morning came with a bitter copper breath against Jekyll's pillow where he had collapsed without bothering to pull off the rags left from Hyde's transformation back. His mouth tasted awful.

            _What happened_…He knew what his mouth tasted like, but he tried not to think about it. 

            Somewhat freshened a few minutes later, he made his way to the main dining room. Seated across from Sawyer he finally acknowledged a detail about his surroundings. "We're moving," he said, "Where are we going?"

            Sawyer stared at him in disbelief but relaxed. "Oh, that's right. You were asleep," _was that disgust_, "Someone kidnapped the crewmembers that went recruiting last night. We're following the bastards now." Though he swore Jekyll could tell his heart wasn't in it. The boy looked for all the world like a drowned river rat.

            "D-did something else happen?" he asked.

            "Naw – well, one of the ones they took was my friend, _Jack_."

            "The –oh! The one with the tattoo?"

            "Yeah. Last one. Last one I could count on anyways." Jekyll thought he could be a tad drunk. Morose and drunk.

            "What do you mean?" Jekyll spread sea-anemone jelly on his toast.

            "Well, most of the ones I trained with are dead, a few from treachery, a couple 'cause of their own stupidity – others I didn't train with, we, we grew apart," he shrugged, "We had, whaddya call 'em, irrevocable differences."

            Jekyll nodded, remembering his reaction to the blonde woman. "And now we are in pursuit."

            "Yup." Sawyer stood abruptly and Jekyll realized with a start that he was finished. He wondered how long he had slept. When he looked up again, Skinner sat across from him.

            His glass floated upward in a toast, "Mornin'."

            "Good morning. So they, ah, let you out?"

            "O'course! The other bloke struck again while I was locked up. Killed this time – anyway, they let me out just in time to go after these Spaniards."

            "What – Spaniards – someone died?"

            "Yeah," he grinned, "Wake up, do-ducks."

            "Wh-who was it?"

            "Some mick prostitute. And," he raised a sleeve to cut off what he presumed was Jekyll's next question, "as for 'ow do we know they're Spaniards? You'll have to ask Nemo." Jekyll nodded. Mick prostitute. _No wonder I'm not hungry._

_            Oh, come on now, Henry. We didn't eat that much, just her throat, a few bites here and there – _

            Yes, he knew what that taste was – 

            "Jekyll?" alarmed, Skinner started to stand but it was too late.

            Henry threw up.

Author's Notes ~

Going away again, but shall be back soon. 

Next part explores the third voice more, and the 'mystery' which now is not. So much. Um.

Picked up a copy of the novelization by KJ Anderson. I've decided to stick mostly to the movie, and interweave a few of the graphic novel details, but won't draw on the novel.

Review!

See you in a bit.


	6. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** Not mine. The concept goes to America's Best Comics and Alan Moore and Fox 20th cent., the characters come from their classics. I don't make any money off this, and as a starving student, neither will you if you sue me.

            "The language they spoke sounded like a dialect of Spanish which is why Mr. Skinner calls them Spaniards," Nemo said. Skinner smirked. "However, this assumption was incorrect," Skinner scowled, "as they neither dressed nor moved as Spaniards. Their current southern path leads me to believe they are actually South American, or at least based there."

            "We got a tattoo off one of 'em," Sawyer picked up as Nemo quieted, "It's a snake-like thing, we might be able to find a reference or somethin' in the captain's library."

            Jekyll, who wasn't feeling so well after this morning -_last night_-, perked up a bit at this. Research, something a doctor is _good_ at – 

            "Ms. Harker will be combing the texts while the rest of us plot a course of action,"  Nemo said but Jekyll didn't hear him over Hyde's laughter. _Actually got your hopes up over that one, eh, Henry?_

            _So what good are you_? – was that an echo of Gray's voice or his own self-disgust? He couldn't tell as the laughter and the words and the sneers and the laughter swirled into one and splintered again in his mind.

            In an uncomfortable moment, Hyde stopped smirking. He started watching.

            Mina flipped the page in an overly large tome, eyes flickering over ink drawings in the hopes of spotting the angular reptile. Jekyll had entered moments ago and volunteered a second pair of eyes as strategic planning was not his strong suit. He now wandered the shelves for a mention of certain South American Indians. Ms. Harker wondered if the captain felt a kindred spirit with these 'Indians', albeit from halfway around the world, but because they might have a connection to those who stole members of his crew, she decided against asking.

            Presently, she became aware of someone speaking.

            "No – Mayan, Incan, Aztec, - well, that wasn't what we were looking for, so don't tell me –"

            Jekyll walked away from her, speaking to himself…or the beast! _He's speaking to Hyde in his mind!_ She shuddered as she realized how precarious the good doctor's state of mind must be.

            "Well, you are being anything but helpful, so please stop."

            "I mean it, Edward!"

            "Or I'll – "

            "Shut it!"

            "What do you mean that wasn't you?"

            His voice rose until he was shouting, "So tell whomever else in there to stop bothering me!" He straightened abruptly and combed his now mussed hair back to one side. He pulled a white handkerchief out of one pocket and dabbed the sweat of his forehead. He blinked.

            "Ah! _Tribal Markings_!" He pulled a volume off the bookshelf. He did not seem to remember Mina's presence.

            "I have requested a private meeting to discuss something that very much alarms me," Harker paused to take a sip of tea. They, the remaining members of the League, minus the good doctor, sat around in Ms. Harker's private quarters.

            "Oh, come on now, don't keep us in suspense," Skinner said as a tin of greasepaint hovered in the air before him.

            "Yeah, what's up? Where's doc?" Sawyer asked, jiggling his foot impatiently.

            "You know," Skinner muttered, white fingers paused in midair, "he doesn't like being called doc." Sawyer gave him an odd look as Mina continued.

            "Jekyll is what's concerning me, or rather, his state of mind."

            "What?" Sawyer sat up. Unstable Hyde was one thing, but unstable Jekyll could easily release unstable Hyde aboard the Nautilus. Nemo, mirroring Sawyer's thoughts, strayed a hand to the hilt of his scimitar.

            "Oh!" Skinner sat up, too, for a different reason, "You mean the talking to 'imself bit. He's just chattin' wid Hyde."

            Mina raised an eyebrow, "There is Hyde, Jekyll, but who is the third person?"

            Skinner paused again with one side of his face visible, "Third?" he asked.

            "There can't be – the potion only releases one side, right?" Min looked offended at Sawyer's use of 'potion' but nodded, "Did he make more than one, you know," the blonde mimed tossing back a drink.

            "I don't know. That's why we need someone to get close to Jekyll to ask him, subtly enough to not provoke a change. Who knows how stable he is right now?"

            Skinner nodded. If Hyde was big, who knew how big this other monster might be?

            Mina added, "Captain Nemo and I have already spoken to someone we believe is close enough to accomplish this." Nemo nodded, thoughtfully.

            "Well, what are we waiting for?" Skinner said, "Let's get the bloke moving before it's too late!"

            He had the uncomfortable feeling they were looking at _him_.

            "So, any thoughts today, ducks?" Skinner moved a pawn forward with one gloved hand. It hadn't taken too much to convince Jekyll to help him brush up on his chess. When the doctor had expressed surprise that Skinner was familiar with the game, he'd put on his best 'hurt' face. "Oh, come on now, ducks. I did say _gentleman_ thief," he said. Jekyll smiled uncertainly, then winced, then smiled.

            During the third game Skinner figured the poor sap was lonely. Most avoided him, some by accident, some by design. He decided it was their loss.

            "Are you sure you want to move there?" Jekyll asked as he shifted a rook, "because I say check."

            Skinner captured the rook, "So I say check."

            Jekyll moved his queen, "And I say checkmate. That's two to me and one to you."

            Skinner grinned and deftly began setting up the board again. "You're pretty good at this, ducks, who taught you?"

            Jekyll started to smile, but grimaced, "A-a friend." He closed his eyes and pressed two fingers to his temple.

            "You alright?"

            "Fine!" he snapped. Skinner watched carefully from behind his handleless pince-nez.

            "So, ah, that's Hyde chattin' with you?" he asked casually. Pawns now.

            "Ah, yes. Yes, it is." He settled back somewhat calmer.

            "You only made one potion, then?"

            "What?" Jekyll looked at him beginning to smile. 'Potion'. "Oh! The elixir. Yes, only one kind, if that's what you mean," he said. 

            "Really."

            "What's that supposed to mean?" Jekyll tilted his head and stopped looking so pleasant. He rather looked on guard.

            "Just, rumors. 'S'nothing, ducks. My turn?" Skinner moved a pawn two spaces forward. Jekyll's hand reached out and gripped Skinner's wrist.

            "What rumors?"

            "Nothing!" Jekyll's fingers tightened a bit more than they should have been able to and Skinner felt something pop. He winced. Jekyll's eyes widened slightly and he straighted his fingers, letting go of Skinner.

            "Sorry. What rumors?" he asked again, quietly.

            Skinner rubbed his wrist and began to do his pout, one he usually unleashed when Allan reprimanded his more inappropriate comments. _Good, so he isn't that upset._

_            Don't want to piss off your special friend, Henry?_

_            Bugger off, Edward. What rumors is he talking about?_

_            I don't know…_ but it sounded like he did. Jekyll began to get a little angrier.

            "What rumors?" he hissed at Skinner. 

            "Harker said – well, a lot of things, not all of which I bothered to pay attention to, had better things to look at, you get my drift? But, ah," he continued as Jekyll's eyes narrowed _yellowing_, "She thinks you might've made more than one potion and ah, something more than Hyde could be let loose and they don't want that to happen. Did you?"

            "Hm?"

            "Make more than one, come on ducks, pay attention!" Jekkyll rather looked as though he was having one of those in-head private conversations Skinner was beginning to envy.

            "Oh! No. Of course not. What a silly idea!" Jekyll sat back, concentrating on something else and Skinner huffed impatiently.

            "Then who are you talking to?"

            "What?" He looked momentarily confused.

            "You talk to yourself sometimes, but you're not just talking to you. Who else are you talking to?"

            Jekyll's face smoothed, "Just Edward."

            "And?" Skinner persisted. This was probably not the subtlety that Mina was looking for, but damned if ducks wasn't holding up his end of the conversation elsewhere. 

            "No one," he said, irritated.

            "Yes, you are. Mina heard you."

            Jekyll held his pawn and looked at it. He twirled it between his fingers. _He has_ _long fingers_. Skinner shifted slightly. "We don't know."

            "'scuse me?" Skinner sat back this time.

            "Edward and I don't know. Actually, I'm beginning to think Edward does, but he won't tell me because he's being a prick. You ought to ask him next time he's out."

            "Oh really," Skinner said sarcastically, "I guess I shall, then." Right, ask a powerhouse monster how many people he had in his head. 

            Jekyll set the pawn down and stood abruptly, "I told you what you want, so I think we're done here. I'll be in my quarters if someone finds anything useful for Edward to do." Now he sounded slightly bitter, but Skinner couldn't blame him. Poor sap.

            Skinner sat and watched him go, and felt slightly disappointed. "We must do this again sometime," he muttered in a faux chipper voice to himself, as he began putting the pieces away.


	7. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** Not mine. The concept goes to America's Best Comics and Alan Moore and Fox 20th cent., the characters come from their classics. I don't make any money off this, and as a starving student, neither will you if you sue me.

            "Come along, they say," he panted as he rounded another corner, "we could use Edward…" he paused in an alley and wondered when Sawyer was going to start shooting something. "Well, _I_ can't use Edward. I won't. You can't make me-" he puffed out his chest stubbornly while gasping for breath, but jumped as Sawyer began firing. Jekyll looked over his shoulder, vainly checking for Skinner, but remembered the thief was actually doing his job. 

            The Nautilus had paused outside of a Virginia port town, not too large, not too clean, watching its quarry patiently. Nemo didn't want to strike too soon as it became apparent they were not the only ones watching the dock. "They may have allies," Nemo stated. His face was blank At times, Jekyll could feel as though this was the same man who steadied him in that ice cave, but at these times, he was stiller than a corpse. Even Hyde had nothing to say.

            So they, being mostly Nemo and Sawyer, had planned some sort of ambush, consisting of a lot of foolhardy heroism as usual. They would drive the offenders into a closed area and Jekyll was content to study the china pattern on his teacup until his name was called. Or rather, not his. "What about Hyde?" he asked.

            "Once you are placed in the thick of these [and here the captain spat a foreign word with such vehemence] you will release Hyde to punish them."

            Jekyll opened to his mouth to yell to scream to reason even that Hyde is not a team player that he is a good man not a killer, his hand shook slightly, rattling the teacup against the saucer, "I'm afraid I must decline," he said quietly.

            "I'm afraid this isn't a choice, doctor," Nemo's eye glittered and Jekyll could feel a gulf widening between them – allies dropping like flies once more – where had that come from? His eyes darted to Skinner who seemed to think it was a grand plan. He made a shooing motion with his gloved hands.

            _No where, no one_

_            You 'ave me, 'enry._

            Henry swallowed and squeezed his eyes shut. _It won't be so bad –_

            _Yes it will_, but he nodded slowly. Some momentous occasion, some sliver of his soul blackening and no one noticed. Skinner quirked an eyebrow as Jekyll patted his forehead with a limp handkerchief. Henry didn't see.

            Edward did.

            And this is how he found himself running as the others herded the unseen offenders toward him. He heard screams and cries of "Bruja! Monstruo!" He turned another corner.

            Skinner would be coming from the east, Harker from the north, Sawyer and Nemo from the west, which meant Jekyll had to be going south. He was never good with directions. 

            _Got that right. Turn left here,_ _Henry_, Hyde grumbled. Jekyll took a right.

            _What are you doing?! Left!_

_            I will have no part in this!_

_            But I will!_ Jekyll felt his legs begin to still and his feet shift. Sometimes, when Hyde put his mind to it, he could force Jekyll to move in little ways, like reaching toward the elixir. Jekyll, however, had yet to be able to control Hyde. Ever.

            "No!" Jekyll ground his teeth and forced his knees to bend, until he was kneeling in the alley. Hyde roared his frustration and released Jekyll, who ran into a doorway. He slammed his back against it, panting, hearing a creaking and popping.

            The door splintered and he fell inward.

            Tiny shafts of light spilled in from the street, enough to tell Jekyll he was in an abandoned room, an abandoned building. The door wasn't unsalvageable, it just hung off its hinges though Jekyll could feel wood fragments under his hands. Wood, and something else. He shuddered slightly and winced while Hyde thundered at him _Out get out get out there and rip and tear and –_

            Jekyll got to his feet shakily and brushed his hands off delicately. He could hear the gunshots and yelling closer now and realized _They must think this is my plan, so no one could get out!_

_            'S a bloody good plan, too. Now, LET ME OUT!_

Jekyll ignored him in favor of finding some place to hide. There was a door at the far wall, but it must have swelled shut in the humidity. Being an abandoned building meant it was lacking in a few crucial hiding places like furniture. The best he could hope for was backing into a corner and hoping none of them had good night vision.

            The first few ran in and Jekyll held his breath. They began gabbling at one another then quieted as more feet pounded the dirt outside. Apparently it was more of their people and one hissed "En aquí!" 

            The room got fuller. Jekyll did his best to not breathe. 

            "Alguièn está aquí!" 

            "Como?" 

            One of them lunged forward, a burly one, and Jekyll found it even harder to breathe. "Quièn es èste?"

            Jekyll kicked his feet in the air. _Henry, let me out, I'll deal with this fodder._

_            I-I can't._

He tried to slide his fingers under the beefy sausages that were cutting off his air supply. Spots appeared in front of his eyes and he could see lights, patterned lights. 

            _Let me out, Henry, I can make them stop_

_            I can't reach the vial _– it was true. He could feel a small weight in his pocket but he couldn't reach it as his jacket swung with him, shaking in the air. The man had a sour sweaty scent, he was tiring, but raised Jekyll an inch higher as if finding a second wind. 

            _Let me out_

_            I can't!_

_            Henry, let me out!_

_            The elixir_ he rolled one eye down in vain, but couldn't see anything, anything at all.

            _Let __m__e out let me out LET ME OUT – _

            Sawyer was the first to find the building. "I think he's in here!" he called. He checked his guns and holstered them. He felt something shove him aside as Skinner strode in past him. The invisible man stopped abruptly and lifted his right foot. He checked the bottom. It was hard to tell in this light, but it felt like blood. Blood, and something else. Something soft – but he could see something moving in the corner, so it wasn't that bad. Until he got closer.

            Henry huddled in the corner, eyes unfocused, his clothing in rags. "Ducks?" Skinner asked. 

            Henry looked at him, eyes wide. Now Skinner could see blood on his lips. Hyde could deal with, even enjoy this slaughter, but Jekyll…

            Rodney sighed, "Let's get you back to the ship."

            "Something's been bothering me," Harker said. Nemo set his cup on table in the small parlor. 

            "About what?" 

            Mina glanced down at a sheaf of papers before answering. "Every time Jekyll has used the elixir, he has retained the Hyde persona for up to hours later. However, this time, he was in human form only moments after."

            "What is your point?"

            "Could he be experimenting with his elixir?"

            "That may account for a third presence-"

            "Exactly!"

            Nemo contemplated in silence, a comfortable silence that spun between the two of them in their meeting. The captain was thinking of these two problems, Jekyll, and a complication of reacquiring his crew. Once they had herded the offenders to be destroyed by Hyde, Harker discovered they had already given the missing crew to a second group, intent on hustling them over land. Back aboard the Nautilus, they met a mysterious crew also hunting these thieves, likely for the same reason. 

            _Can they be trusted?_

_            Where are they taking _my_ crew?_

            Unlike their first actual mission, where everything was laid out so very neatly, he found this trial to be frustrating, an outrage against his personal mission, forcing him back to –

            "Is Skinner up to acquiring more information?"

            "Do you believe that would work again?" Nemo asked. The doctor had shut himself away after their meeting, not even reappearing for meals.

            "I hope so. How else do we get to the bottom of this? Demand Hyde tell us everything?" she smirked. Nemo allowed himself a small smile.


	8. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** Not mine. The concept goes to America's Best Comics and Alan Moore and Fox 20th cent., the characters come from their classics. I don't make any money off this, and as a starving student, neither will you if you sue me.

            The man, captain of this other crew, cast a long shadow in Nemo's dimly lit salon. He reminded Sawyer a bit of Jekyll, like a Jekyll with style. Though he stood garbed in comfortable English wear the agent's eyes kept trying to pick out – what, the monster inside the man?

            Noticing Sawyer's stare, the man smiled benignly.

Tom felt his skin crawl.

"Are we all here?" the man asked. Marlowe, that was his name. 

"All but two," Nemo stated. Marlowe's eyes narrowed slightly, but he relaxed and rocked back on his heels.

"Wonderful. Then I'll get started," he said keeping a small smile on his face, "I work for Stanislaus and Son Shipping Co. I was hired to track down the criminals who kidnapped half a crew from one of the ships. We know they are bound into slavery and forced to work at coal mines in South America, though we are unsure as to who is actually in charge of this treachery." Watch his shadow elongate like that – trick of the light, Sawyer told himself.

"We have been following them for two months, waiting for them to make their move. Their usual pattern of activity is capture, sail to a predetermined rendevouz, then pass the new slaves over to second group, who will take them over land to the mines."

Slave was a bad word in Tom's mind – especially concerning his friends, Broad Arrow Jack and his ever ready audience. The hairs on the back of his neck shivered in some strange draft. Mina touched the lamp at her side and Marlowe's shadow grew even more.

Even if the beast was not bound to anything but its own whims, Tom wished Jekyll were here – just so that Hyde wouldn't be far behind. Or Skinner, or some trick up his sleeve…

"We know where the mines are and have had the plan to overtake such operations for some time now, only lacking the manpower. But, with your Nautilus and special crew, I believe the time to act is now."

Sawyer felt his shoulders tense as Marlowe reached to his side, but he was only taking a sip of water. Tom set his teeth together carefully and wished Jekyll warn't such a sissy.

"Let's see what we 'ave here, ducks," Skinner took the lid off the platter that had been delivered during Jekyll's bath. Though Rodney believed the doctor would drown himself given the slightest opportunity he respected his wishes for a solitary few moments. Though from the sound of the murmuring the good doctor was anything _but_ alone. Jekyll now huddled in a shivering lump on his bed in a rather threadbare robe.

"Soup! See? Nice hot soup-"

"Please refrain from treating me as a child," Jekyll snapped between clenched teeth. He had to clench his teeth to stop them from chattering – making him sound more helpless than he already was. As a result, it made him sound angrier than he intended.

Skinner frowned slightly, "Sorry, ducks," he said softly. 

_Don't call me that._

Skinner didn't answer and for a moment Jekyll was confused. _You have to say it_ _aloud you prat_, Edward grumbled.

Jekyll shivered and remembered his hand plunging through the eyesockets of some unfortunate villain. The squelch of his eyes into jelly – Henry felt his stomach clench and closed his eyes.

"Here," Skinner held the spoon aloft before Jekyll. "Come on, now, eat up and all will be well."

"Oh, really?" Jekyll took the spoon from him, spilling a few drops on his robe. "How exactly does hot soup solve all my problems?"

Skinner grinned _cheeky bastard_, "Dunno, ducks. My mum always fed us kids hot soup when we were feeling low or sick or whatever. _She_ thought it solved the world's problems."

"Did it?" he blew on a hot spoonful and carefully sipped the broth.

"Hunh?" Skinner startled.

"I said 'did it?'"

Rodney sat back and considered how to answer. The doctor already knew what way was up, that is, probably figured out most of Skinner's life based on his thievery and well-worn clothing. "Not really, no." He watched Jekyll make a swirling motion in the soup with his spoon, transfixed and trying not to think about – things.

Like cold winter. Like gutter stench that early in the morning. Like cozzers bringing home his little brother. Like cozzers not bringing home his little brother.

"You may leave if you wish," Jekyll said.

"Wha'?"

"You needn't watch me if you have better things to do."

"Well, 's'a good thing I don't." He drew one knee up under his white chin. The makeup stopped in a straight line at his jawline, giving him a disembodied head.

"Excuse me?" Hyde sniggered. _Shut it_ –

"Don't have anything else to do. You goin' to eat your roll, mate?"

Jekyll held the roll in question and contemplated. Skinner was being stubborn, his natural state of being six days out of seven, but he was offering something. Hyde watched Jekyll's thoughts carefully. The third had been quiet since yesterday, only making a brief detrimental appearance, but with Jekyll as disturbed as he was tonight, another appearance may push him over the edge. Odd as it sounds, Hyde was protective of Jekyll to an extent. Torture was his domain, not this up-and-comer's.

Jekyll considered that Skinner may be offering him something more – actual friendship rather than only questing for information. He'd already told him all he knew. Hyde was another matter.

Feeling Jekyll's tentative thought Hyde slid back into a corner watching the probing inquiry skate past him.

"Ducks?"

"Hmm?" Jekyll pulled his eyes away from the bread. "What?"

"The roll? 'S'okay if you want it, just gotta say. You alright?" Skinner raised a hand and touched Henry's forehead, taking his temperature. Jekyll froze. This most certainly was not the rogue he'd become acquainted with. He stood abruptly and Skinner's hand dropped to his side.

"Here," Jekyll set the roll on the tray and walked over to the chair where he'd lain his clothes after removing them. Skinner picked up the roll, unsure of what was happening.

Jekyll searched one pant pocket and heard a clink from the other one. He removed a small vial of clear liquid.

"Wot's that, ducks?" Skinner took another bite of the bread.

"The elixir."

"Wot?" Skinner stopped chewing. The elixir, if Jekyll's holding it here –

"The elixir that releases Edward."

"So, ah, how 'er you holding it?" 

Jekyll turned back to look at him. "I didn't take it tonight."

Skinner's eyebrow attempted to become one with his hairline and he realized the implication as Jekyll said it -

"Hyde let himself out."

**Author's Note**~

Sorry for the long wait!

How's that for a humdinger?

May get worse before it gets better (Jekyll wise.) Kudos to anyone who can place Marlowe. Will be lot of confusion. Certainly on my part.

If anyone is still confused as to what the kidnapping thing is, let me know. 

I believe in showing, not telling, so you'll see the story unfold through the characters' eyes. They won't know everything, so much secrecy abounds. By the end, though, all will become clear. I have, by the way, no idea when the end will be. Definitely not for awhile, but it will have a complete stop, not a fade-away.

Shall have more soon (I hope).


	9. Interlude 2

**Disclaimer:** Not mine. The concept goes to America's Best Comics and Alan Moore and Fox 20th cent., the characters come from their classics. I don't make any money off this, and as a starving student, neither will you if you sue me.

Note: Taking some liberties with Jekyll's past, now AU from the second League graphic novel as I understand it ( not actually having read it myself. ) This is a drastically different reason why Jekyll created Hyde, and why he now acts the way he does, also leads up to revealing what the third voice in his head is – onward!

~Interlude 2: In which we delve into Henry Jekyll's past and witness events leading to the creation of one Mr. Edward Hyde

            His name was Francis Delong, and he was currently sleeping. Maybe. His legs twisted in the sheets and an observer could see much of his torso and tousled hair on the back of his head, and one eye. Closed.

            It popped open as someone so rudely pounded on the door. "Francis! You dozy prat, stop playing around! We have to be in class in twenty minutes!" The eye slid closed again, presumably as whoever was knocking ceased in order to put his ear against the door. Not hearing any movement within, the knocking redoubled with a certain amount of anxiety. "Francis! For the love of God-"

            Francis, wrapped in the sheet mentioned earlier opened the door and smiled muzzily at his associate, a young spidery man, Henry Jekyll. "Yes?" he said.

            Henry's mouth worked for a moment. "You aren't even dressed?!" he shrieked. Francis sleepily raised one finger to his lips. 

            "Shhh! You'll wake my neighbors. I'll be out in a jif." 

            Henry checked his watch – again – approximately thirty seconds after the first, second, third time he'd checked before. "Ungh! Francis!" he groaned, gently thumping his head against the wall outside of Francis's room. He could just leave, just go to class and be on time and just leave Francis who would give him a hurt look and refuse to talk to him at lunch at the café or turn away whenever he spoke just to punish Henry and make him feel horrible, so in the long run, Henry decided to stay. Besides, if you're late, might as well walk in with someone else so the professor can split his irritation, not just focus on one person. Especially if that one person happened to be Henry Jekyll, who was positive Professor Smithe hated him anyway. Henry was a paranoid young man, and believed this of most of his professors.

            "Well, are you coming?" Henry opened his eyes to see Francis, fully dressed, and halfway down the stairs. He grinned.

            "Henry! If I may, a moment of your time – " Sara touched his arm. She was a young lady who sat in on some of their classes without being registered. Due to her father's wishes she was unable to take a profession, but he enjoyed intelligent conversation at the dinner table.

            "Hm?" he caught his lip in his teeth in mid murmur.

            "I'm sorry, were you talking to yourself?" she smiled and color rose to her pale cheeks. Henry supposed she was pretty enough.

            He blushed, "I was looking over my notes. Ah, what do – er, what can I help you with?"

            "I was just wondering…you are close to Francis Delong, he's your friend, yes?" At his nod she continued, "Is he fond of young ladies – I mean, a certain young lady – ahm."

            "Is he seeing anyone?" Jekyll asked.

            She nodded, "Y-yes."

            "No." 

            "What?" she looked up, looked hopeful. Henry sighed internally, _they never ask about me – _

            "He is not seeing anyone currently. Is that all?" he gave her a sterile ever helpful smile with his face tilted just so to prompt her exit.

            "Oh! Yes, thank you," she smiled warmly and Henry set his jaw.

            "Sara Johnson asked about you," Henry said.

            "Oh? And what did she want?" Francis's face was the epitome of innocence, and a precursor to someone Henry would later know.

            "She just wanted to know if you were attached to anyone special."

            "So what did you say?"

            "I said no. You aren't seeing anyone."

            Francis looked at him with his eyebrows raised.

            "Oh – are you?" Francis just smiled. Henry felt his chest tighten uncomfortably. "Is she anyone I know?"

            Francis held the moment for a few seconds longer, then he laughed, "No, there's no she! I really had you going, didn't I?" Henry laughed with him and yes he had and something in his chest eased slightly making it easier to breathe.

            "So Sara Johnson, eh?" Henry nodded still smiling. "She's the poppet who takes classes so she can chat with daddy, isn't she?"

            "Yes, what of it?"

            Francis grinned and the light caught his dimples. Not cute little boy dimples, more like devil dimples. "Anyone she marries gets the girl and the father all in one. I wonder what else they share – " he wiggled his eyebrows lewdly.

            Henry's eyes widened, "Francis! I don't believe you! How can you be so crass?"

            "Crass? Oh, lighten up, Henry." Francis reached across the table and punched Henry's arm, lightly. "Come on," he stood abruptly.

            "What?" Henry asked. He, too, stood.

            "Let's go do something."

            "Like what?" He followed as Francis wove his way in and out of tables until they reached the street.

            "Like this." Francis unfolded a wooden board with a checkered pattern of light and dark squares on it. 

            "What?"

            "Chess!" 

            "Oh, I, uh, I don't play," all the same, Henry lifted a pawn from the velvet bag and examined it in the light.

            "What do you mean, you don't play? It's a gentleman's game."

            "Well – "

            "And aren't you a gentleman?"

            "I, ah –"

            "It'll be fun! I'll teach you, Henry," he took the pawn from Henry and set it in line with the rest.

            A short while later, the sun crested and Francis stood to shut the curtain while Henry decided his next move. "Alright, I'll move the horsey one, I suppose," he said, lifting it and moving it in an L to block Francis's pawn.

            "It isn't a horsey, it's a knight." 

            "Well, it has a horse. On it." Francis stood, looking down and studying the board, though Henry shifted uncomfortably. He felt Francis was studying something else. Brown eyes studied his every feature.

            "Francis?" he asked. He stood slowly. Francis placed a finger to his lips and helped him stand.

            This was – was something to do, too. 

            It warmed as the months passed, and Henry warmed as well. He and Francis continued to study together, to be the best of friends, until Sara Johnson asked about Francis again.

            She asked the question when she already knew the answer, which was something like cheating, "Dear Henry. I was wondering if you would pass along a message for me?" She smiled sweetly like daddy's little girl.

            "Ah, to whom sh-shall I pass this message?" he asked. She pressed close to him, and he backed into the wall a step back. Her hand ghosted over his lapel.

            "To Francis, silly, your good friend, Francis." She raised a finger to flick his chin in a much more familiar fashion than she really had the right. Good girls don't get so close to strange men. Well, then again, Sara was one to push boundaries, after all, she was one of two women taking medical classes – 

            "A-and what do you want me to say?"

            "Just tell him, I won't be inviting him to dinner anymore, so he can stop making up stupid excuses!" She pushed Henry roughly, "And let him know that I know why he never wants to eat with me!"

            "Ah," he said. She glared at him, shaking with anger that was directed, well, toward him. "Why doesn't he?" Henry asked.

            "Because there's someone else," her eyes teared slightly, "But don't worry, I'll just tell people that he's met some biddy who's rich and fragile, when they ask."

            He considered this. Sara was a clever gel, telling him just about everything they'd missed in the past two months. "Do they ask?" he said.

            Sara sniffled, "Some do. But what I had, that was some silly girl's crush. I hope you two have something more." She whacked his arm lightly, "And I hope he takes good care of you, you poof."

            Henry was unsure of how to handle women in general, and crying women especially. Wordlessly, he held out a handkerchief. She took it with a smile. "Doesn't that mean that he's a poof, too?" Henry asked tentatively.

            "Oh, I suppose so. But you two, you'd better be careful. Everyone can see it." At his blank look she explained, "The way you touch each other, like you know what you see when he takes his clothes off – you touch like lovers." She smacked his arm again in frustration. Henry, for his part, looked charmingly bewildered. Sara sighed and considered it might be a blessing that he had someone to look after him. Lord knew what Henry would be without Francis to pull him into life and fun and – well, it was rather as though Francis played the part of Mrs. Jekyll. The thought made her smile.

            Henry smiled at that, uncertainly. "Be careful," she warned. She glanced to either side then pecked him on the cheek. "And take care of each other."

            "I saw you, speaking to the poppet today," Francis said. He lay on his back with the window open otherwise the room would get too stuffy. This way, he could smoke, too. He exhaled and considered the cigarette. 

            "What?" Henry lay on his stomach, trying to go to sleep. But this was Francis's time, when he could get maudlin and contemplative about life in general, or jealous about Henry speaking to the poppet. "Oh, _Sara_!" 

            "Yes, oh, _Sara_," Francis mocked. "Oh, Sara who was getting oh so close to you, what exactly were you talking about?" When Francis said exactly, he meant exactly. 

            "We, ah, discussed…you, actually." Henry twisted around until his was on his back next to Francis. Francis looked at him through slitted eyes and puffed smoke into his face. Henry raised a hand to wave it away while his eyes itched. "Apparently, everyone knows who, ah, you share your bed with – "

            "You mean, you?" Francis stabbed out his cigarette. "Of course they do!" Henry looked unsure. "What, did you think it was some grand secret?" Francis touched his arm and laughed. Henry smiled. No, of course not.

            "Actually, the only person who probably doesn't know is my father."

            "You mean, Professor Whitly knows?"

            "Yes, probably. But my – "

            "And Professor Mordent?"

            "Yes – "

            "And –"

            "Henry! I'm trying to tell you something. Sara is most likely the only one clever enough to put it together. But my father has requested my presence at the manor this coming weekend. I leave tomorrow." Which is just like Francis to be so dramatic…but at least no one really knew. That just meant they suspected, which led to gossip, but no one believed gossip.

            "Now, he only asked for me, so I'll go alone – ah, also because he tends to a tad excited."

            "Excited?" Actually, most tended to gobble gossip up because it was entertainment and better news than the paper.

            "Yes, very. I'm his only son and he may just disown me, but sometimes he gets violent."

            "Oh?" Henry sat up and started paying attention, "How violent?"

            "Just smashing furniture about. This time, he may smash me about some. I fear," oh, so this is where Francis gets tragic.

            "Have you been drinking?" Henry interrupted.

            "No! I have not."

            "Do you want me to come with you?"

            "NO. Henry, you'll probably make the problem worse. As it is, he'll just be outraged and such."

            "Will you be alright?"

            "Of course! He's my father. Why, what do you think will happen?"

            "I don't know."

            They lay in silence as Francis's hand traveled lower and lower. "Have you told your parents?"

            "No. Hoping I'll never have to." He shifted. The curtains stirred in a lazy breeze. Francis would go for the weekend, be back by Tuesday at the latest. Then Henry would do the honorable thing and let his own family know. Or his mother at any rate. Yes.

            Two weeks. Two weeks and Hannah stood to the side next to Sara, both girls watching him while his school chums stood back respectfully. Henry folded his hands in front of himself for want of something better to do with them. He sweated under his top hat and wished for a breeze.

            The mortician had done good work, one could hardly make out the bruises one his face and down on his neck. Francis looked almost as though he were sleeping, except for the heavy makeup. Henry reflected that possibly this was somehow his fault, in some way. Something made him like this, made Francis like this.      

            Science could make it better.

            A drop of sweat trailed down his temple. Science could find what made him wrong like this, what made Mr. Delong act so – rashly as they claimed. Of course he thought it was a burglar and he was so horribly distraught when he found what he had done.

            Science could separate the wrong from the right. He was a good man – could be a good man with science. Separate him from his baser instincts. _Make you better_.

            Yes.

            One year later Edward's first kill was a Mssr. Delong last of the family the manor utterly destroyed maybe the burglar came back the gossip said and – and – and…

Author's Note~

Am heading off to college now, will be a couple weeks until I get my hands on a computer due to some humorous procrastination by my dad. So maybe he thinks it's funny. I don't really. Anyway, will have more current plot later. Not a graphic slasher so you won't see any porn here, stop holding your breath. Do you know who the third voice is yet?


	10. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** Not mine. The concept goes to America's Best Comics and Alan Moore and Fox 20th cent., the characters come from their classics. I don't make any money off this, and as a starving student, neither will you if you sue me.

**Felicia's Angel** – yeah! Marlowe is from Joseph Conrad's "Heart of Darkness"

            South America. It reminded Jekyll of some long ago dream of the exotic far off, when he was a boy. There was something disappointing, though, about finally reaching that far off place that caused it to shed its exotic flavor and feeling. Especially when one was in a dressing gown (threadbare, held tight with one hand to ward off a rather chilly draft) contemplating chess against an unseen opponent. More than one, actually. Hyde had informed him on the second day, when he'd been well enough to eat with the others that the Marlowe fellow was a bad sort and _not our bad sort at all, Henry._

            Which had confused Jekyll to a certain extent as to why when all the man did was sit there and smile genially at everyone. Though once he did catch Sawyer shuddering. 

            Now he sat in the parlor section of his room, across from Skinner in his trench coat holding a pawn. Hyde had apparently decided that Jekyll in his room playing poncy games was better than Jekyll outside with the likes of Marlowe and his crew wandering around.

            "'enry?" Skinner said, "Sometime today, ducks?"

            "I'm thinking," he answered. Then he smiled slightly, "these things can't be rushed, you know."

            Skinner sighed loudly and leaned forward to look at the clock on the mantel.

            "I'm sorry, do you have somewhere to go?" Jekyll sat forward now, he hadn't realized that Skinner probably had better things to do, another planning session maybe. _Charity only goes so-_

            _Hey, you shut it, Hyde snarled. Jekyll winced. Then there were these moments when he just felt confused. His voice or Hyde's voice or whatever third voice – he set the pawn down harder then he meant._

            "No, ducks, I don't." Skinner was watching him, greasepaint applied rather thickly, hurriedly, giving a mock outline of a face. And another thing, now Skinner was using a quiet reasonable voice, incredibly out of place with the thief. 

            Jekyll's headache came back and slid behind his eyes. He sighed. Days like these he just wanted someone to tell him what was happening. The who, what, _why_ of everything but now he was getting maudlin and that would start Hyde if he wasn't careful.

            "Are you alright, ducks?" Skinner was still bent forward just so in a way that made Jekyll want to scream.

            "I'm fine," he said. He rubbed his eyes with one hand and swallowed. "I think I need to rest for a little while."

            He looked up and the thief scrutinized his face for just a moment longer, then Skinner sat back. "Certainly. We'll just pick up later, then," he said. Jekyll nodded and didn't open his eyes until he heard the door close.

_            Henry, get off your lazy arse_, Edward demanded. Jekyll had been sitting on the edge of his bed, contemplating his slippered feet for the past five minutes.

            "Why?" Jekyll asked out loud. The mirror was still relegated to its place under the bed, so he couldn't see Hyde, but he could feel the brute ever-present.

            _You're moping._

            "No, I'm not."

            _Yes, you are.  
            "F…fine. What am I moping about, Edward?"_

            _Just because we had a rough time doesn't mean you need to hole yourself up and pout like some noncy – _

            "I ate people." Henry stated like one may say I died or something equally tragic.

            Hyde snorted. _Not that much, besides, I thought we agreed that I did the eating_ _people bit and you're A Good __Man. Henry clenched his teeth. He tilted sideways until he could lie on the bed._

            "I'm not," he whispered.

            _Yes, you are, Hyde sighed dramatically__, I do the killing bit, you do the whining bit, the pathetic little moralizing bit._

            "I've killed."

            _…what do you mean?_

            "I killed Francis." There. It felt so good to say it aloud, to acknowledge the greater sin, though maybe, not as great as creating Hyde, but near enough.

            _What are you talking about? His old man killed 'im. Then I killed him, lovey all _around._ It had yet to occur to Jekyll to ask why Hyde had suddenly taken the course of the sane reasonable one, but he was too caught up in his own sense of pity and hopelessness. He closed his eyes and didn't say anything more._

            Skinner slipped out once it became clear that Jekyll had fallen asleep. If the monster had sensed him, he hadn't said anything or Henry'd have been up in arms in a second. He closed the door silently, holding the flat of his palm against the side to ease it in – "Skinner!"

            Thunk!

            "Dammit, boy, what the 'ell are you tryin' to do t'me?" he glanced back at the door which had closed somewhat louder than he'd intended. "What the hell do you want?"

            "I need you to come with me," Sawyer answered, craning his neck slightly. It was no use, the door was firmly shut. _Jekyll's_ room_, he noted with some interest. But not as much interest as he had with his new mission. "We gotta check out Marlowe's ship. Something ain't right with his crew."_

            "Something 'ain't right' wid Marlowe in the first place," Rodney mocked, "But what do you 'ave in mind?"

            "I was talkin' to one of 'im, and he said that they were in Africa before they had this whole slave kidnapping thing to worry about, and that they got some more crew to round themselves out before leaving and that one of them – "

            "Don't."

            "But he said Africa wouldn't let him die. It could be Qu-" Skinner placed a bare hand over the boy's mouth. And he was still a boy. Skinner could feel the softer flesh over his jaw, yet to be hardened by scruff of a beard, and held his hand there for a moment, reveling in the rare contact with another human.

            "Don't," he whispered. He dropped his hand. "Don't," he repeated in a normal voice, "get your hopes up. Just makes it harder, Tom." Sawyer's jaw tightened and his nostrils flared in anger or frustration but then he exhaled slowly, and nodded.

            "I just think we oughta check it out. For – safety's sake, if nothin' else." And he would need an unseen spirit to get over and get back without causing a stir. 

            Skinner nodded.

            The two ships were joined at one side, with several lines so that the Nautilus could pull Marlowe's ship with her to go even faster. All one had to do was go topside on the Nautilus and jump over to the other ship. To get back, just go hand over hand one of the lines or walk across, no big deal for an experienced sailor. Skinner, completely invisible, and completely naked, landed with a small whump and curse. It wouldn't be the first time he got a splinter in his bare foot. The damn thing would probably be invisible in a minute anyway, Lord knew why.

            He opened the door to belowdecks and slipped inside. He waited a moment for his eyes to adjust and prayed that humidity made the wood underfoot damp and not…something else.

            Skinner continued down the stairs and hall, pausing to check inside each room as surreptitiously as only the invisible man (the second) can. He was at the end of the hall, and the end of his nerves as the fifth obliviously crew member strode past, nearly trodding on his toes. He wrinkled his nose. Something smelled familiar.

            He heard a click, like a gun barrel opening, click again, shut, sight, swipe twice more and set aside. Sure enough he heard something hard lain down against something soft, like a cloth on a table. He bit the inside of his cheek to quell the hope that Sawyer must be giddy with by now. 

            He crept closer.

            "Two more days, give or take," a deep baritone said.

            "If the weather holds. Your move, Rollins," answered a lighter unknown.

            "Storm or no, two days." And there it was. Skinner slid against the wall, limp with relief. There.

            He opened his eyes after a moment. Sawyer would never be content with hearing a voice, and neither would the rest of the League. Especially not a doctor like ducks. He worried – and even _Hyde worried – about Jekyll, but there are more pressing matters right now._

            He took two steps and tipped the door back oh-so-slightly and saw – 

            Quatermain's eyes lifted to meet his and Rodney felt his heart stop.

            "It's a quarter past one, Rollins. Stop procrastinating and take your damn move," he said. Somehow, Skinner remembered to breath. It was him.

            Allan is alive. The League is whole.

            Hand over hand was all well and good for the experienced sailor, but the inexperienced invisible man dearly missed his gloves at a time like this. There were only two feet to really be in danger of falling and not catching something, and even then, one would be hard pressed to actually drown. Still, Skinner was much gladder to be helped over the rail on the Nautilus by Sawyer. 

            "So," the river rat said, casually, not looking at, or at least, in the general direction of the invisible thief.

            "So."

            "Did you, uh, did you find anything useful?" he asked.

            Skinner nodded, slowly, and said, "Maybe." Tom's eyes flicked back to Skinner's and he raised an eyebrow.

            "Is he or isn't he."

            "He is," Skinner said.

            Sawyer nodded thoughtfully and then demanded, "Is he _alive?"_

            "Yeah, it's Allan alright." He grinned and the boy whooped and everything was just right for a moment.

**Author's Note~**

So it took me a little longer than I expected to get this part out. I feel like I need to hear the characters' voices again before I lose them entirely, but oh, well. Do let me know if they start sounding too off, okay? I was going to unmask the third this round, but I figure, one big secret is good 'nough. Next time.

            Anyway, keep reviewing! 


	11. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:** Not mine. The concept goes to America's Best Comics and Alan Moore and Fox 20th cent., the characters come from their classics. I don't make any money off this, and as a starving student, neither will you if you sue me.

            Quatermain is alive. Allan. Mina's hand went to the scarf around her throat in contemplation. She felt – but that wouldn't be fair or even right to either party. Allan. She looked over to Nemo. He heard the news and gave no outward sign of joy or anger or – anything at all. He sat in his armchair, customary frown in place, seemingly looking inward. This certainly does complicate things.

            Sawyer was looking from one to the other, his excited grin faltering, then falling away completely. Poor boy. Skinner had yet to put the grease paint on his face, so no-one could tell what the thief was thinking, or even where he was looking. They sat in silence, and Tom in bitter disappointment for moments stretched long.

            Skinner stood abruptly, "Well, if that's all then, I'm going to go finish my game wid ducks." Mina acknowledged his exit with barely a nod.

            Skinner limped down the hall past so many end tables with white rose in the vases – white going crisp brown at the edges.

            "Ducks, we need to talk," he said.

            "About what?" Jekyll asked, pouring himself a cup of tea. Darjeeling, if he remembered correctly. 

            "About…Francis," Skinner said.

            Jekyll's hand jerked, sloshing hot tea onto his dressing gown. Skinner cursed and started up to help him, then his injured heel hit the ground roughly and he sat down again with another curse. He pulled his foot into his lap and rubbed it tenderly.

            "What's wrong?" Jekyll asked. He'd gone pale but not even that shock could stop the doctor in him, and he jumped at the chance to change the subject.

            "Ah, splinter," he said. "So this – "

            "Let me see." Jekyll set the cup down and reached for Skinner's foot. Skinner held it out and remembered how Hyde had told Jekyll where the burns were. As the skin healed and scarred, it turned invisible once more.  Something occurred to the thief.

            "How's Hyde know what to tell you?"

            "Hmm?" the doctor turned the appendage to study the side.

            "I say," Skinner began.

            "Oh, I suppose he sees you. Looking through his eyes is quite an experience really…"

            "So I'm invisible to everyone but the beast?"

            "Mmm…and he says to let you know he doesn't appreciate being called a beast." Jekyll set the foot down gently and got up to retrieve a pen knife from his case.

            "But…he can see me. And tells me what he sees."

            "Yes. Sometimes after a little prodding," Jekyll tilted his head and lifted the foot once more.

            "So he – _yowch_!" Skinner jerked his foot back, "Do you _mind_?!"

            Jekyll didn't say anything, merely wiped the splinter and drop of blood on a serviette.

            "So, you were saying?" Skinner looked closely at the doctor, but the nervous wreck was gone. So was a certain amount of amiability.

            "I, ah, who was Francis, ducks?" Skinner asked gently. Jekyll's eyes hardened, Skinner assumed at the whole episode of _you thought I left but I didn't._

            "You hid in my room and spied on me." It was a flat statement, and ducks wasn't exactly looking at him. Or even in his direction. Skinner shifted slightly.

            Jekyll sighed.

            "Was this just a furthered scheme from the chess game before? Is that game now cursed?"

            Skinner frowned. Jekyll wasn't making a whole lot of – oh. "I…just wanted to make sure you were alright. Honest," he said. He licked his lips, "Who was Francis?"

            Jekyll seemed to lose focus, then came back. "Francis taught me to play chess. He was a very…close…friend."

            "How cl - oh." Skinner chewed on his lower lip. That wasn't too odd, you found it in the slums every once in a while. In the mansions, too, sometimes. Some lords pay a pretty penny for a willing lad. Or even for an unwilling one. He remembered something his da had told him, before he went away, that the very rich and the very poor were alike; they had a freedom the middle class could only dream of. If you asked Skinner, the middle class built its own bloody cages, who was he to care if they went mad with their own rules? Except this was ducks.

            Jekyll pulled his robe tighter like he wanted to disappear, pull right into himself, poof! Leave nothing but a memory behind. _What would happen to Hyde_, he wondered, _if 'enry went away? _

            "I-I thought science could make it better, you know," Henry looked up at him with red rimmed eyes, "I wanted to separate myself from the baser instincts, a-and…and I got Hyde instead."

            "And?" Skinner asked. Now would be a prime moment to find out about this third monster – _hold it! Second monster. Ducks in't a monster._

            "And what?" Jekyll looked at him, perplexed.

            "What about the other one?"

            "What other one? Oh! The other voice. I told you, I don't know. Hyde does. I'm sure he does but he won't tell me. Sometimes he doesn't tell me things…sometimes he tells me too much…" Jekyll was loosing it, fast.

            Skinner exhaled, blowing out his breath in a whoosh. "Okay, why don't we get you to bed – "

            Jekyll's head snapped up, "Why?"

            "To sleep!" Skinner urged. _What did he think?_

            He helped Jekyll up even as the man curled in on himself and made sure he was lying down on his bed when he left. He passed his hand over Jekyll's hair gently, bringing back memories of when he used to take care of his younger brothers and sisters when they were sick. 

            He closed the door gently and turned to go, limping slightly, foot still sore from the removal of the splinter. "Skinner!" Skinner's muscles bunched slightly.

            "What?" Déjà vu. Sawyer was hurrying toward Skinner, gun in hand. "What the bloody – "

            "Shh!" Sawyer held one finger in front of his mouth with exaggerated care. Bloody Americans.

            "What?" Skinner hissed. 

            "Something's wrong."

            Skinner gestured to Sawyer's gun with irritation, "Gee, I hadn't noticed. What is going on?!"

            "Keep quiet! Look, where's Marlowe's crew?"

            "What?" He looked to one side, then the other. "I can't see either crew, you nonce! Maybe they're at lunch."

            Sawyer raised an eyebrow and Skinner sighed mentally. The boy was a secret agent after all, if something was wrong he probably knew when to worry and when to not. But all Skinner could think now was getting to Jekyll's file again and going over it with a fine toothed comb. There had to be something about past companions or his mental history. "Alright," he sighed aloud, "What do you think happened…"

            Sawyer shrugged, "I dunno. I heard Nemo talking to the second 'r third mate about not seeing some people for a day, and I figgered, we're on a boat, right? Where're they gonna go?" Skinner shrugged back.

            "Shall we ask Quatermain if he's seen anything?" Sawyer paled slightly and Skinner wanted to stamp his foot in irritation. No one wanted to speak to the damnable spirit back from the dead, it seemed enough the bastard was up and around. Of course, to be fair, Tom probably had no idea how to approach his once mentor. Poor brat.

            "Right then, what do you want to do?"

            "I, uh," Sawyer bit his lip, "I'm not entirely positive – "

            "If you don't know, just say it. Here," Skinner began to strip quickly, "I'll go nose around. But not on that boat! Ducks just got the splinter out from last time."

            "Alright, we- ducks?"

            "Yeah," Skinner answered slowly. If he had flesh tones he'd be blushing. 

            "Uh," Sawyer said, "When we were in England, uh, this lady called me d – uh, that, and she was, well…" Now Sawyer blushed. "Is that like, a, um…"

            "It's a pet name," Skinner reached to fix his collar irritably only to find he'd already taken it off. Sawyer looked at the door through the thief.

            "You two spend an awful lot of time together," he started.

            "Yeah, wot business is it of yours?" Skinner snapped.

            "N-nothin'!" Tom held up a hand to pacify what he couldn't see. 

            "Roit then." He brushed past the agent and began storming off. His elbow knocked against a slightly open supply closet and he hissed in pain. He grabbed his arm and swore. He opened the door slightly to slam it but something fell against it. "Oh, for God's sake!" Skinner reached a hand in to shove back what he thought was a broom but felt something soft and wide and sticky. He pulled his hand back in disgust and opened his mouth to make some inane comment.

            "Oh, hell."

            His fingers were sticky with blood. "Boy," he said quietly, "I think we found where the crew's got to."

            "What – " Sawyer stepped forward and wrinkled his nose at the blood. Skinner let the door fall open and one of Nemo's Indians fell out, blood dried or drying on his chest from several stab wounds.

            "So," the thief said conversationally, "Who gets to tell Nemo his crew's dead?"

**Author's Note**~

Okay, I wasn't planning on this twist, but here it is. The explanation will be in the next part, which should be out soon, barring too many midterms or parties. There should be an in-depth interview with Hyde next chapter. For those who are wondering, I have no idea how many chapters this monster will have, but it looks like a lot.

Watch the skies for more! Reviews make it better.


	12. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:** Not mine. The concept goes to America's Best Comics and Alan Moore and Fox 20th cent., the characters come from their classics. I don't make any money off this, and as a starving student, neither will you if you sue me.

            As it turned out, they both told Nemo and now they stood waiting for his reply.

            "How many are dead?"

            "W-we found three," Sawyer said, holding his gun in both hands, looking rather foolish and out of place. Skinner's coat tickled his neck because he'd thrown it on too fast to turn the collar out. Now he wasn't sure if he was allowed to move.

            Nothing showed on the Indian's face, except for a hardening around his eyes. Skinner found himself holding his breath.

            "Bring Marlowe to me," Nemo said. They didn't question – they turned and left and outside Skinner let out his breath in a whoosh. He felt rather silly; Nemo was on their side, in their League, yet the invisible man felt rather like he'd just barely escaped.

            "What do we do?" Tom asked him uncertainly. Skinner shrugged.

            "You heard the man. Find Marlowe. You think 'e's back on his own boat?"

            "I-I don't know."

            "You're the secret agent!" Skinner whirled on the boy and Sawyer stepped back.

            "I – " but he didn't get a chance to answer.

            At first, Skinner thought it may have been some animal, a primal deep roar that sank into his bones and rattled around his skull, interspersed with all too human screams. Sawyer looked confused for a moment, then he turned to run, "Jekyll!" he threw over his shoulder.

            Skinner cursed and followed, shrugging out of his coat as he went.

            Nothing was really left of the man who had the misfortune to attack Jekyll, then Hyde, except for a few paltry stains smeared on the floor and puddles of gore that couldn't yet seep into an already soaked carpet. Hyde berated them for a few seconds, meaningless swearing and raw fury that subtracted from their worry. If the beast was this chatty, it couldn't have been that bad.

            "I'll go check on Mina," Sawyer said, and Skinner turned to follow him but Hyde's hand shot out and caught Skinner neatly. The invisible man was so shocked he didn't even protest until Sawyer was out of the room.

            "W-" what was going to be an irritated protest died on his lips as he remembered who he was talking to. He swallowed.

            Hyde regarded him for a moment and Skinner felt goosebumps rise on his flesh – it had been so long since anyone had seen him, had looked at him purposefully with meaning and not just by chance accident.

            "Wot's, ah, up?" he asked.

            The beast wrinkled his nose and thrust the thief away from him. "You stink of fear," he stated.

            Skinner stepped back gratefully. 

            "It has come to my attention that you are doing more than fishing for information." Hyde pulled his lips back from his teeth in a grimace or a grin, it really was hard to tell.

            Skinner raised an eyebrow, "Beg pardon?"

            "I know who and what you are, and what you are to the good doctor."

            Skinner licked his lips nervously, "And w-wot would that be?" But the monster didn't answer. The thief shifted his weight to another foot and waited for Hyde to say something. He regarded the chessboard instead.

            "Ah, while yer here…" the beast looked at him with one eyebrow raised, "Ducks said I should ask you about the third, ah, person…the first two being 'enry and you, heh," he started to smile then swallowed convulsively.

            "There isn't one."

            "What?!"

            "I said, there isn't one. You can tell all those plotters that they have nothing to fear but – me," he smiled grimly looking again at Skinner and the invisible man shivered. "I believe Henry is going insane. Or already is," the beast turned back to the chess game and touched a pawn gently. "He has begun to converse with a side of his subconscious that not even I can control. It tells him rather disturbing things such as convincing him he has killed – "

            "Hasn't he?"

            The beast fixed him with such a look that Skinner nearly wet himself. "Ah," he whispered.

            "Francis's father objected to their – relationship. About a year later I objected to his – continued existence…I have studied Henry and his recent changes, and his growing dependence on your presence."

            "Wo – wot do you mean?"

            "I believe we must make a deal, you and I…He does not hear this other voice when you are near to pull him back to reality – " Hyde sighed. "This is a complex matter. I'm afraid Henry's continued existence is a matter of great importance to me. If he is no longer able to take care of himself in these times between, well, I certainly have no wish to pass on." Hyde gave him a toothy grin and Skinner wrinkled his brow. 

            "Wot are you saying? That 'e's…" crazy, and possibly suicidal. Well, anyone who so much as looked at the man in the past few days would know that. "So wot does this 'ave to do with me?"

            "Keep him in one piece and I'll let you live. Oh, and I'll be a 'team player'…" his voice trailed away and Skinner wondered if the last part ended with an 'until I feel otherwise'.

            Hyde looked to one side and then back at Skinner, "It's wearing off now. Be a good boy and get Henry to another room until this filth is cleaned up."

            And then suddenly Skinner was looking at Jekyll's ashen features growing even paler as he took in the sight before him.

            "I assure you, I most certainly did not 'see this coming,'" Marlowe explained. He swallowed, his adam's apple touching Nemo's blade point gently. The gentleman was bent nearly backwards as Nemo interrogated him brusquely. Sawyer watched to one side, gun discarded at one point a few moments back as he had fought with a former member of Marlowe's crew. The man had been standing over Tom with a broken beer bottle in one hand about to slash the boy's throat when he had toppled over suddenly, a knife in his back. Marlowe stood behind and reached a hand down to help Sawyer up and it had been an easy matter to twist the man's arm around and frog-march him to Nemo.

            "My crew is dead – "

            "As is most of mine! This is mutiny! Not some carefully crafted plot. Did you not realize that they slew yours _and mine at the same time?!"_

            You had to give him that, with a sword to his throat and no discernible allies, he still tried to reason with an enraged death-worshipper. It was like a Mexican standoff, but like this bunch would even know what that was. All they needed now was some sort of diversion…

            Sawyer shifted slightly. Any minute now, some miraculous interruption…waiting for the startling revelation, someone to run up…still waiting. Nemo pressed the sword just a little harder to draw a neat thin line of liquid from Marlowe's flesh. It slid down the man's neck and disappeared into his shirt.

            Both men stayed perfectly still and suddenly Nemo dropped his sword down by his leg and took a step back while Marlowe sprang upwards once more. "Indeed," Nemo murmured. 

            Sawyer relaxed just slightly.

            Nemo turned to look his way, not quite facing the agent, "Where is Ms. Harker?"

            Tom shrugged, "I dunno. I couldn't find her."

            Nemo shook his head once, "She is quite capable on her own. Did I hear the beast earlier?"

            "Yeah. Uh, Skinner's talking to him, I think," Sawyer said. He knew the thief hadn't followed him out into the hall, had spent a few precious seconds twirling in a circle as if to find the man, but to no avail.

            "Roit here, mates. Wot's the latest?"

            Sawyer stiffened as he felt a breath on the back of his neck. Damn invisible rodent. He willed himself not to jump. "What'd Hyde tell ya?"

            "I asked first, boy," Skinner said.

            "Captain Marlowe and I have lost parts of our crew due to an unfortunate mutiny. Half of his has led an unsuccessful takeover, they will be hunted down and dealt with," Nemo stated. He kept his eyes on the once more benign gentleman. Tom thought he should maybe have a problem with talk of hunting down men like they were creatures, but this wasn't his ship. He stayed silent.

            "Ah, well, int that too bad. Any word on Quatermain?"

            Tom started again, guiltily. He hadn't even thought of man since Skinner's discovery of the first corpse.

            "I have yet to check on the surviving members of my crew," Marlowe stated quietly.

            Tom turned and left at that. He would check.

            "Where is the boy going?" Nemo asked.

            "To see the old boy, course. Should I go with him?" Skinner added a little worried. Sawyer had left a tad abruptly, as though in a daze of some sort.

            "First, tell me what the monster said to you," as he had spoken before, Nemo's eyes had wandered. Now he leveled his sword at the invisible man's approximation of a throat. Skinner used one finger to gently press the flat of the blade away from his chin.

            "Ah," he said, "Hyde said that there's no other monster in Jekyll's head. It's just a part of Jekyll. He says there's nothing to fear in there but, ah, him. Aheh." The last had squeaked out in a nervous hiccup as Skinner waited for Nemo to take his sword away.

            The Indian narrowed his eyes, "What do you mean, a part of Jekyll?"

            "It's just something that popped up in 'is mind. Hyde and- ngh – I have a plan to deal with it. We hope," Skinner muttered.

            Nemo lowered his sword and sheathed it decisively. His eyes did not leave Skinner's general vicinity.

            "Very well."

            Amazing how such a simple statement could hold so much menace. Skinner shifted slightly and nodded though no one knew but himself.

AN~

Okay, the long awaited update (yikes! A month!) so terribly sorry it took so long. There's maybe five (or more) parts coming.


	13. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer:** Not mine. The concept goes to America's Best Comics and Alan Moore and Fox 20th cent., the characters come from their classics. I don't make any money off this, and as a starving student, neither will you if you sue me.

            "We're two days from docking. Nemo and Marlowe are splitting up, gonna move most of Marlowe's crew over to the Nautilus and we'll go on ahead, make it there by tomorrow morning or so, do a bit o' reconnaissance, either wait for Marlowe or go in, I dunno. Whichever." He shrugged, then cocked his head and listened to the shower in the next room. He got no answer from Jekyll, but he didn't expect one.

            Skinner sighed and reached out to fiddle with the clock on the mantle. He had moved Jekyll into his room until they could get the blood out of the doctor's. The poor man had argued until apparently Hyde told him to just go, whatever it was Jekyll stopped arguing. But he did a fantastic impression of being put upon, slumping his shoulders and frowning and looking like depressed puppy. A puppy that could turn into a frothing wolf, but never mind that.

            "So it's dinner in the salon tonight, or not, but it'll be shark fin soup no matter where we eat it. And maybe some fried strips of calamari, that's always good," Skinner's voice trailed off thoughtfully. He was hungry. And the room was beginning to fill with steam. He raised his voice again, "You alright, 'enry?"

            "Yes," Jekyll called back. The water shut off. Skinner shifted in his coat as the leather began to stick to his skin with the humidity. He fidgeted and tugged on the cuffs, then pulled the jacket off and laid it over the back of his armchair. He threw himself down onto the cushion and began tapping his foot.

            "How silly of me," Jekyll's voice preceded him, "I seem to have forgotten to get fresh clothing – may have to go back to my room…" He wandered into the parlor in Skinner's dressing gown, sticking to his flesh here and there in damp patches. Skinner drew himself upward.

            "Skinner?" Jekyll asked. He saw the jacket on the back of the armchair, then heard the soft sound of the cushion re-plumping, meaning a body had recently vacated. Jekyll swallowed nervously, looking from side to side. Hyde was certainly no help right now.         

            "Henry," Skinner said softly. He stood mere inches away from that awful paisley pattern on the robe, a cream against maroon that had made him laugh the first time he saw it. A drop of water trailed down the side of Jekyll's face and before he could stop himself, Skinner reached out and touched it.

            Jekyll flinched.

            Skinner drew his hand back and noted that his fingertip was now visible and he rubbed his fingers together until the water dried.

            "R-rodney?" Jekyll whispered. Skinner's Christian name sounded alien on his tongue, and he looked distinctly uncomfortable.

            "Ducks, you – " Skinner touched Jekyll's neck with three fingers this time and put his fingers to his lips. Now, even without the makeup, he was making himself visible, and Jekyll wasn't pulling away. What a frightening, enlightening experience.

            Jekyll's lips moved to form a question but he bent forward just slightly mesmerized and closed the distance between them achingly slow. He just barely brushed Skinner's mouth with his own when someone pounded on the door and they jumped apart.

            "Damn," Skinner hissed. Jekyll licked his lips nervously, then turned and went into the bathroom again, running one hand over his damp hair distractedly.

            Skinner sighed. He went to open the door and frowned when he saw the boy. "What?" he demanded.

            Sawyer's eyes widened. "Skinner?" he asked.

            "Yeah, wot?"

            Sawyer looked from side to side nervously, searching for the other man, "Dinner's ready in about five."

            Skinner swung the door shut without answering. Damn. _Stupid – stupid boy_, he thought venomously.

            "You get that, ducks? Dinner in five," he called.

            "Y-yes, certainly," Jekyll murmured. He passed by Skinner without looking at him, brushing shoulders as he continued to the door.

            "Hey, where're you going?" Skinner asked.

            "To get my clothes," he said. He kept his head turned slightly to one side.

            "Oh, alright. Then I'll see you in the salon? Would you like me to go wid – "

            "No! No, I'll see you with the others."

            Skinner stood in his parlor after the door swung shut once more. "Right then," he whispered.

***

            Sawyer picked at the meat floating in something that tasted like his Aunt's chicken broth – if he closed his eyes and tried not to think about it. No one was saying anything, a not uncommon occurrence these days. Skinner was wearing an approximation of a face, greasepaint slathered on quickly, nothing like his previously careful application.

            The invisible man ate with large quick bites, chewing briefly and swallowing, as though keeping his mouth full would excuse him from partaking in any conversation. If Sawyer were hungrier or if this had been anything but shark fin staring up at him he'd do the same. As it was he pushed the meat again and looked over Skinner's shoulder to one of the end tables. Yesterday it'd held one of the vases with dying or dead roses; someone had removed the vase and replaced it with a small statuette of a squid.

            Even with half the remaining crew dead, someone had found the time and energy to prettify Nemo's ship. Sawyer felt like he should laugh.

            Skinner glanced over and met his eyes, "What?" he asked, mouth full.

            Tom shook his head, "Nothin'."

            Jekyll looked up briefly, then turned back to his food. Skinner glanced over at him, but it looked for all the world as though Jekyll were listening to someone only he could hear. Hyde? The other voice?

            Mina spoke first, "We have concluded that the quickest manner of action will be sending in a spy of sorts," here she looked significantly at Tom. He caught himself before he frowned. "To gather information. Ask about slaves, recent slaves, what kind of slaves. The whereabouts – "

            "I got it," he snapped. It wasn't like he was stupid. Jekyll glanced at him again then stared at his bowl. Something was off with him. Him and Skinner both. The invisible man kept shooting little glances at Jekyll like he was worried or something.

            Mina frowned at his outburst and opened her mouth to remonstrate him but Nemo interrupted. From there they got into a real polite argument about how he should dress, what his story should be.

            Tom figured poncho, dirt, guns, and the backstory he could make up as he went along. Too much detail and they knew something was up. He was a trained secret agent, after all. This way, it would be just like old times, him and Huck…

            Tom stabbed the flesh and chewed vengefully.

***

            Skinner shifted on the chaise lounge. The bloody thing was meant for sitting, or lounging, but it was right horrible for sleeping. He'd given the bed to ducks – and the thought of Henry in his bed made his head feel light and just a little dizzy – and was stuck with one arm falling asleep and cold toes.

            He rolled over. One of his two precious pillows fell to the floor and his shoulder shifted abruptly. Skinner caught himself before he followed the pillow to the floor and hugged his arms tighter, shivering slightly. "Right then," he muttered.

            He swung himself upright and rested his feet on the carpet for a moment before standing and re-wrapping the blanket around him. He walked to formerly his bedroom and stood in the doorway. Jekyll was wrapped in the remaining blankets, peaceful in his dreams. Under some strange compulsion, Skinner stepped closer, his feet making soft shushing sounds on the carpeting, miraculously missing any odds or ends that plagued bare toes in dark rooms.

            Jekyll's hair was darker than auburn in the shadow, and he didn't snore. Skinner filed that fact away in the recesses of his mind, and stepped closer. He bent down slightly to study Henry's face in profile, licking his lips just barely. He reached out a hand to touch Henry's hair, very lightly, the barest of touches so as not to wake either doctor or monster.

            Jekyll stirred and exposed part of his face mumbling inaudibly. Skinner drew back his hand then began inching it closer when Henry stilled.

            Jekyll's eyes opened.

            He looked around in confusion at first, then noticed the suspended blanket and his eyes widened in fear? Shock?

            "Shh, s'just me, ducks," Skinner whispered. He rested his fingers on Jekyll's cheek for one glorious moment before Jekyll closed his eyes and drew a deep breath, turning his head away for an impromptu stretch.

            "What time is it?" Henry asked.

            "Oh, I don't know," Skinner stood upright, his shoulders and upper back aching.

            "What are you doing in here?"

            Skinner laughed, "I don't know." And he didn't. His throat ached and his chest ached, and he wanted to do nothing more than reach out and touch Henry again. Vaguely he wondered, in the back of his mind, what Hyde must think of this. Of him and ducks. Together. When the monster gave him the go ahead, did he know what that entailed?

            Skinner didn't.

            "Can't you sleep?" Jekyll asked. He rolled one shoulder, stretching his arm up from under the covers, creating a fist at the end and scrunching his face delightfully.

            "Ah, just a little chilly out there," Skinner said, apologetically.

            Jekyll opened both eyes and stared at the ceiling. "Would you like to sleep here?" he whispered.

            Skinner's breath caught. Very much yes. Yesyesyes. "I-if you…wouldn't mind," he choked out.

            Wordlessly Jekyll shifted to one side, clearing the side of the bed closest to Skinner. The invisibles man fell into the mattress, bouncing slightly, then squirmed under the covers, still clutching the blanket. Jekyll may not appreciate the fact that he's naked so soon. If Jekyll doesn't appreciate, lord knows what the monster will think.

            Jekyll slid his hand under the cover until it brushed Skinner's. Skinner stared over at Jekyll staring at the ceiling, then turned his hand over and welcomed Henry's. Henry clutched his, a firm grip of soft flesh to calluses, and then closed his eyes. Skinner watched the doctor as his breathing deepened and then slowly followed suit, savoring the feel of Henry's long fingers wrapped around his palm.

AN~

Wow, it's been over three months already. Feeling a little guilty here. My muse vacated the premises (ironically while I took a creative writing course) and I don't know when I'll next update. For those wondering about my personal website, it's non-existant. If you want to know about my other (one) fics out there, I'm changing my profile to show where they can be found.


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